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The Old Dick
WINNER OF THE EDGAR ALLAN POE AWARD FOR BEST PAPERBACK ORIGINAL. --- Retired private eye Jake Spanner may have gotten old, but he hasn t gone soft. When an old gangster Jake put away some forty years ago shows up at his door, it s time for Jake to grab his hat and Browning automatic and get back to work. Old? Sure. Slower to catch his breath? Maybe. But, sharp as a tack and with a lifetime of investigating know-how, Jake Spanner has nothing to lose and everything to prove. Sniffing out leads between Sunset Boulevard and the Hollywood Hills, Jake pulls in old friends to help. The work is hard; it s gritty. So is Jake. And, with a three quarters of a million dollars ransom at stake, the bad guys don t stand a chance. With THE OLD DICK, author L.A. Morse creates a new kind of hero, one that laughs at death not because he s too young to understand it, but because it s right around the corner. It s time to face it head on and maybe go out swinging. For more from L.A. Morse, check out THE FLESH EATERS, THE BIG ENCHILADA, and SLEAZE, sizzling thrillers also published by E-Reads.
236 pages, ebook
First published January 1, 1981
56 people are currently reading
96 people want to read
About the author
L.A. Morse
11 books10 followersaka Runa Fairleigh.
Larry Alan Morse grew up in Los Angeles. He attended the University of California at Berkeley and San Francisco State College, and somehow managed to get two degrees in English Lit. He moved to Toronto in the late ‘60s, and has had the usual variety of jobs, including a brief stint in educational television and five years as an administrator at the University of Toronto. Upon returning from extended travels through Southeast Asia, he decided to try and write a novel – something delicate and sensitive and artistic. He discovered just what he was looking for in the true story of Sawney Beane and his family, The Flesh Eaters, the 15th century cannibal clan who ate their way through a good part of Scotland.
L. A. Morse has written four other crime novels. The Old Dick won an Edgar from the Mystery Writers of America; The Big Enchilada and Sleaze, featuring Sam Hunter, the L. A. private eye who, according to one reviewer, “makes Dirty Harry look like Mother Teresa”; and he was instrumental in arranging the publication of An Old-Fashioned Mystery, the lost masterpiece by the enigmatic and reclusive author, Runa Fairleigh. He shifted to another medium with the publication of Video Trash and Treasures, a two-volume guide to the obscure and bizarre movies of the 1980s.
For the last 15 years, L. A. Morse has worked as a visual artist, primarily sculpture. He is an avid birder with over 1,500 species on his world list. When not off looking for birds in the tropics, he currently divides his time between stone carving and making a living in the stock market.
Larry Alan Morse grew up in Los Angeles. He attended the University of California at Berkeley and San Francisco State College, and somehow managed to get two degrees in English Lit. He moved to Toronto in the late ‘60s, and has had the usual variety of jobs, including a brief stint in educational television and five years as an administrator at the University of Toronto. Upon returning from extended travels through Southeast Asia, he decided to try and write a novel – something delicate and sensitive and artistic. He discovered just what he was looking for in the true story of Sawney Beane and his family, The Flesh Eaters, the 15th century cannibal clan who ate their way through a good part of Scotland.
L. A. Morse has written four other crime novels. The Old Dick won an Edgar from the Mystery Writers of America; The Big Enchilada and Sleaze, featuring Sam Hunter, the L. A. private eye who, according to one reviewer, “makes Dirty Harry look like Mother Teresa”; and he was instrumental in arranging the publication of An Old-Fashioned Mystery, the lost masterpiece by the enigmatic and reclusive author, Runa Fairleigh. He shifted to another medium with the publication of Video Trash and Treasures, a two-volume guide to the obscure and bizarre movies of the 1980s.
For the last 15 years, L. A. Morse has worked as a visual artist, primarily sculpture. He is an avid birder with over 1,500 species on his world list. When not off looking for birds in the tropics, he currently divides his time between stone carving and making a living in the stock market.
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Displaying 1 - 24 of 24 reviews
January 14, 2025
What starts out as a fun and light, comedic little hardboiled romp turns into quite the elaborate and intense page-turner, filled with all the twists and double crosses fans of the genre could want.
Jake Spanner is a 78 year-old retired gumshoe in L.A. who, after decades out of the biz, is approached by an old enemy — a fellow geriatric who Jake had gotten sent to prison back in the day. He says his grandson has been kidnapped by an unknown party, and he’ll do whatever it takes to get him back. Will Jake please help? Jake doesn’t know why this old hood would come to him, but he agrees (against his better judgment) to offer his assistance, and soon finds himself smack dab in the middle of a serpentine plot that’s nearly impossible to unravel. The police are suddenly giving him a hard time as well, thinking he’s involved with some high level criminals. Good thing he has several elderly pals from his past — some in retirement homes — that he can look to for help.
I had a great time with this one, as it’s filled with lots of memorably eccentric characters, from wise guys to ex cops to prostitutes to just plain batshit old timers, and the plot is always forging ahead in unpredictable ways even when I thought I knew where it was going. It’s got all the noir-ish detective tropes from the 30s and 40s one could want, and they translated well —and humorously — to the more modern times of 1981. The whole time I was thinking, “why isn’t this more popular? This should be a movie.” Turns out it is a movie, a made for TV one from ‘89 starring Robert Mitchum and Ernest Borgnine, which I’ll likely hunt down even though it’s probably terrible.
I’ll definitely be checking out more from Mr. Morse. Too bad he’s not exactly prolific, with only a handful of novels from 40-plus years ago and nothing since.
Jake Spanner is a 78 year-old retired gumshoe in L.A. who, after decades out of the biz, is approached by an old enemy — a fellow geriatric who Jake had gotten sent to prison back in the day. He says his grandson has been kidnapped by an unknown party, and he’ll do whatever it takes to get him back. Will Jake please help? Jake doesn’t know why this old hood would come to him, but he agrees (against his better judgment) to offer his assistance, and soon finds himself smack dab in the middle of a serpentine plot that’s nearly impossible to unravel. The police are suddenly giving him a hard time as well, thinking he’s involved with some high level criminals. Good thing he has several elderly pals from his past — some in retirement homes — that he can look to for help.
I had a great time with this one, as it’s filled with lots of memorably eccentric characters, from wise guys to ex cops to prostitutes to just plain batshit old timers, and the plot is always forging ahead in unpredictable ways even when I thought I knew where it was going. It’s got all the noir-ish detective tropes from the 30s and 40s one could want, and they translated well —and humorously — to the more modern times of 1981. The whole time I was thinking, “why isn’t this more popular? This should be a movie.” Turns out it is a movie, a made for TV one from ‘89 starring Robert Mitchum and Ernest Borgnine, which I’ll likely hunt down even though it’s probably terrible.
I’ll definitely be checking out more from Mr. Morse. Too bad he’s not exactly prolific, with only a handful of novels from 40-plus years ago and nothing since.
Want to read
August 31, 2018Goodreads identifies this particular book as (Unknown Binding), however this Avon edition is a paperback first printed August 1981 as an original publication by Avon.
There is no credit given to the cover artist, though it appears that he / she may be a comic book artist.
There is no credit given to the cover artist, though it appears that he / she may be a comic book artist.
October 3, 2021
Wouldn't you know it? The Old Dick chronicles the legendary adventures of Retired PI Jake Spanner. It is a tongue-planted-firmly- in-cheek hilarious escapade featuring the king of the geriatric private eyes and his stumbling around town as kidnapping, gunfire, arson, and narcotics rear their ugly heads. This book isn't to be taken entirely seriously. There are parts of it that are so funny you'll be rolling in the aisles. Just picture a cantankerous, lecherous, sometimes stoned retiree taking on hoods and kidnappers and other tough guys.
November 6, 2015
I want to re-read this novel in a fierce way.
It's been 30 years since I discovered it.
A couple of years after I read it it was adapted for television by Andrew J. Fenady (screenwriter and author of numerous books, most famously The Man With Bogart's Face) and turned into a very nice made-for-tv-movie starring Robert Mitchum as "Jake Spanner", The Old Dick as "Jake Spanner, Private Eye"
( http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0097611/?... )
Imagine Philip Marlowe at 78 waiting for his personal long goodbye.
Then a shadowy figure from his past shows up begging Jake to come out of retirement one last time to help him rescue his granddaughter from the chains of drug addiction and a particularly nasty drug lord and his vicious henchmen.
Every time I pass by this paperback while filing away some new book I've just read I have an uncontrollable urge to pull it off the shelf and read it again.
Soon -very soon- I will.
January 15, 2020
Jake Spanner is 78 and hasn't had an erection for five years.
I bought this for a cheap laugh, obviously, but it was surprisingly fun. Sometimes a little heavy-handed, and in danger of becoming too like the pulp novels it sends up, it answers the question of what the surviving 1940s tough guys do in 1980s California. Hard not to enjoy Jake's adventures with his superannuated friends as they sock it to the younger generation of hoodlums.
I bought this for a cheap laugh, obviously, but it was surprisingly fun. Sometimes a little heavy-handed, and in danger of becoming too like the pulp novels it sends up, it answers the question of what the surviving 1940s tough guys do in 1980s California. Hard not to enjoy Jake's adventures with his superannuated friends as they sock it to the younger generation of hoodlums.
February 13, 2026
Published 1981, The Old Dick by L.A. Morse won an Edgar in the paperback category… just recently learned of the book’s existence. The book requires a bit of patience (just like most of us old dicks do- 77 here next month), the repetition actually plays well with the plot as Jake Spanner (78 yr old ex PI) gets caught unexpectedly in the web of this one last caper (evoking memories of his career and life, forgotten in the decline of his less than “golden” years) and the humor, jaundiced views, and yes sentimentality, pluck the heart strings of this usually hardboiled reader. Comic noir is not easy to pull off, but Morse succeeds here.
Some highlights to illustrate our hero, Jake and his final big caper….
“I was nearly seventy-eight years old, and I hadn’t had an erection for five years. — not a pleasant sight, but I didn’t care. One of the few advantages of getting really old is that people don’t talk to you. At least I wasn’t fat. When you got old, you either went soft or you got dry. Fortunately, I had gotten dry. — considering that I was seventy-eight, slightly arthritic, and often insomniac, I wasn’t in too bad shape. —I thought of myself much more as a lizard. My skin was dry, and a lot of time in the sun had given it the color of old leather. Like a lizard, I thrived in the sun—the hotter, the better —and I didn’t feel very good if the day turned cool or damp. — still managing to get by okay—at least I wasn’t yet shoplifting or eating cat food—but nothing more than that, and I didn’t know how much longer it would last. — if I didn’t die soon, I’d be broke.”
“I was seeing a ghost. A ghost who I didn’t think would be especially friendly. One of the reasons I’d made it to seventy-eight was that I usually had a good sense of when to bow out. This looked like one of those times. — “What were you trying to do, Jake, give us both coronaries? You stupid son of a bitch.” “Hello, Sal,” I said. His name was Sal Piccolo. “What’d you run for?” Sal said. “You know very well why I ran.” “What? You don’t mean that—” “Yeah. I mean exactly that.” “But that was—what?—forty-two, forty-three years ago?” “So you think I still hold that grudge?” “Why not? You always were a vindictive bastard.” — The studio boss was an old-time New York street fighter who wasn’t about to put up with any shit like that, and he hired me to muscle Sal back out. Not only did I get him out of the studio, but I got him into prison for a good long stretch. Obviously, Sal wasn’t very happy about that turn of events —“Same old Jake Spanner. Hard as nails, and never give an inch.” “This is the old Jake Spanner, not the same one. — “Five hundred okay?” “Yeah, five hundred’s fine.”— actually kind of funny. After fifteen years, I was working again. For one night, I would be the world’s oldest private eye. Take that, Duke Pachinko.“ Side note: Jake likes to read hardboiled pulp, the book’s opening passage: “Duke Pachinko lay propped against the watt, a dripping red sponge where his face used to be. He wouldn’t bother anyone again.”
“Mrs. Bernstein was a sweet lady, getting on a bit, in her late sixties, who lived a couple of doors up from me. Her husband had died about five years before, and for four years she’d been making a play for me. The problem was, she was too nice, the image of Everybody’s Grandmother. She was one of those women who had a compulsion to mother you, who wasn’t happy unless she could wear herself to a frazzle, caring for you. I haven’t wanted mothering since I was eight, so Mrs. Bernstein tended to drive me crazy. —The late Mr. Bernstein (when he was still early) used to come over to my place for a drink every once in a while. No matter what we started talking about—the weather, the Dodgers, or that asshole Richard Nixon—the subject always became his wife’s cooking. —for the next forty years, he was given cabbage rolls twice a week. Naturally, they acquired a significance far out of proportion to their reality, and came to symbolize everything that had gone wrong with his life. Jake, there are times when I think I’d rather die than eat another fucking cabbage roll.” I thought about that when Bernstein was run over by a cement truck, on his way home to dinner…. —“Yeah, Friday’ll be swell.” I’ll make another batch of your favorite.” “That’ll be great.” “You know, they were my husband’s favorite, too.” “Yeah, I heard.” “I’ll never forget that I made them on the night he was killed.” “Oh, yeah? Well, I hope I’ll have better luck.”
“for twenty years, just like the twenty years that had preceded them, I went on feeling like I was a transient, that this arrangement was only temporary until something better came along, that there was still plenty of time to make a decision. — I filled the tiny clay bowl of my long-stemmed Moroccan pipe with some good home-grown stuff, lit it, and sucked the harsh smoke deep into my lungs. As those kids in the park might have said, it was dynamite weed.” [good weed gets you thinking] “It was in the twenties, and I had come down from Paris to Tangier. —mysterious, alien, wide-open, sinister; as a young would-be writer who thought he should put away experiences like preserves for a long winter, I loved it all. Not an hour off the boat, I was wandering around the medina, negotiating narrow alleys, inhaling the street smells of saffron and rotting garbage and piss, and I went—naturally—into the most mysterious, sinister-looking café I could find. — At that point, I’d never heard of kif. Imagine my surprise. The waiter kept bringing me fresh glasses of the hot sweet tea and freshly filled pipes. “Etes-vous bien fumé? Etes-vous bien fumé?” —very well smoked. Indeed…. [Back to the present] I figured smoke was a better, safer way to relax, sleep, feel good. And I sure as hell wasn’t concerned about possible long-term side effects. Besides those of us who’d been smoking since it was known as boo or tea, there were lots, maybe introduced to it by their grandkids, who were starting to indulge. GOLDEN-AGE DOPE FIENDS Retirement-Village Pot Orgies Superannuated Hophead Tells All! I laughed. Oh, yes. Once again I seemed to be pretty well smoked.—stretched out full length on the couch, my feet resting on the stamen of a giant tulip, the backs of my knees caressing a nearly obscene orchid, and my butt again settling on the welcoming gardenia. I felt like a stoned pixie. [good time to read] —The saga of Duke Pachinko had been left behind in the park. Not much of a loss. The new one was something called Red Vengeance, featuring, the back cover assured me, “a detective who made Mickey Spillane look like Boy Scout. — Tempus fugit. Forty pages into the book, there had been a garroting, a defenestration, a dismemberment, and a gang rape. Al was out for vengeance.” ….
Well an old dick getting wrapped up in a paperback thriller, and about to embark into a thriller of his own… seems like a good place to leave you…get some old dick in your life. More highlights of course visible —
https://www.goodreads.com/notes/39936...
Final thought, this coulda, woulda, shoulda be made into a film… potential for a great comic noir flick. Harvey Keitel, a bit too old to play Jake? So currently casting Jeff Bridges as Jake, and DeNiro was Sal Salami. But open to other suggestions… maybe Marty or one of Coen bros. will read this?
Some highlights to illustrate our hero, Jake and his final big caper….
“I was nearly seventy-eight years old, and I hadn’t had an erection for five years. — not a pleasant sight, but I didn’t care. One of the few advantages of getting really old is that people don’t talk to you. At least I wasn’t fat. When you got old, you either went soft or you got dry. Fortunately, I had gotten dry. — considering that I was seventy-eight, slightly arthritic, and often insomniac, I wasn’t in too bad shape. —I thought of myself much more as a lizard. My skin was dry, and a lot of time in the sun had given it the color of old leather. Like a lizard, I thrived in the sun—the hotter, the better —and I didn’t feel very good if the day turned cool or damp. — still managing to get by okay—at least I wasn’t yet shoplifting or eating cat food—but nothing more than that, and I didn’t know how much longer it would last. — if I didn’t die soon, I’d be broke.”
“I was seeing a ghost. A ghost who I didn’t think would be especially friendly. One of the reasons I’d made it to seventy-eight was that I usually had a good sense of when to bow out. This looked like one of those times. — “What were you trying to do, Jake, give us both coronaries? You stupid son of a bitch.” “Hello, Sal,” I said. His name was Sal Piccolo. “What’d you run for?” Sal said. “You know very well why I ran.” “What? You don’t mean that—” “Yeah. I mean exactly that.” “But that was—what?—forty-two, forty-three years ago?” “So you think I still hold that grudge?” “Why not? You always were a vindictive bastard.” — The studio boss was an old-time New York street fighter who wasn’t about to put up with any shit like that, and he hired me to muscle Sal back out. Not only did I get him out of the studio, but I got him into prison for a good long stretch. Obviously, Sal wasn’t very happy about that turn of events —“Same old Jake Spanner. Hard as nails, and never give an inch.” “This is the old Jake Spanner, not the same one. — “Five hundred okay?” “Yeah, five hundred’s fine.”— actually kind of funny. After fifteen years, I was working again. For one night, I would be the world’s oldest private eye. Take that, Duke Pachinko.“ Side note: Jake likes to read hardboiled pulp, the book’s opening passage: “Duke Pachinko lay propped against the watt, a dripping red sponge where his face used to be. He wouldn’t bother anyone again.”
“Mrs. Bernstein was a sweet lady, getting on a bit, in her late sixties, who lived a couple of doors up from me. Her husband had died about five years before, and for four years she’d been making a play for me. The problem was, she was too nice, the image of Everybody’s Grandmother. She was one of those women who had a compulsion to mother you, who wasn’t happy unless she could wear herself to a frazzle, caring for you. I haven’t wanted mothering since I was eight, so Mrs. Bernstein tended to drive me crazy. —The late Mr. Bernstein (when he was still early) used to come over to my place for a drink every once in a while. No matter what we started talking about—the weather, the Dodgers, or that asshole Richard Nixon—the subject always became his wife’s cooking. —for the next forty years, he was given cabbage rolls twice a week. Naturally, they acquired a significance far out of proportion to their reality, and came to symbolize everything that had gone wrong with his life. Jake, there are times when I think I’d rather die than eat another fucking cabbage roll.” I thought about that when Bernstein was run over by a cement truck, on his way home to dinner…. —“Yeah, Friday’ll be swell.” I’ll make another batch of your favorite.” “That’ll be great.” “You know, they were my husband’s favorite, too.” “Yeah, I heard.” “I’ll never forget that I made them on the night he was killed.” “Oh, yeah? Well, I hope I’ll have better luck.”
“for twenty years, just like the twenty years that had preceded them, I went on feeling like I was a transient, that this arrangement was only temporary until something better came along, that there was still plenty of time to make a decision. — I filled the tiny clay bowl of my long-stemmed Moroccan pipe with some good home-grown stuff, lit it, and sucked the harsh smoke deep into my lungs. As those kids in the park might have said, it was dynamite weed.” [good weed gets you thinking] “It was in the twenties, and I had come down from Paris to Tangier. —mysterious, alien, wide-open, sinister; as a young would-be writer who thought he should put away experiences like preserves for a long winter, I loved it all. Not an hour off the boat, I was wandering around the medina, negotiating narrow alleys, inhaling the street smells of saffron and rotting garbage and piss, and I went—naturally—into the most mysterious, sinister-looking café I could find. — At that point, I’d never heard of kif. Imagine my surprise. The waiter kept bringing me fresh glasses of the hot sweet tea and freshly filled pipes. “Etes-vous bien fumé? Etes-vous bien fumé?” —very well smoked. Indeed…. [Back to the present] I figured smoke was a better, safer way to relax, sleep, feel good. And I sure as hell wasn’t concerned about possible long-term side effects. Besides those of us who’d been smoking since it was known as boo or tea, there were lots, maybe introduced to it by their grandkids, who were starting to indulge. GOLDEN-AGE DOPE FIENDS Retirement-Village Pot Orgies Superannuated Hophead Tells All! I laughed. Oh, yes. Once again I seemed to be pretty well smoked.—stretched out full length on the couch, my feet resting on the stamen of a giant tulip, the backs of my knees caressing a nearly obscene orchid, and my butt again settling on the welcoming gardenia. I felt like a stoned pixie. [good time to read] —The saga of Duke Pachinko had been left behind in the park. Not much of a loss. The new one was something called Red Vengeance, featuring, the back cover assured me, “a detective who made Mickey Spillane look like Boy Scout. — Tempus fugit. Forty pages into the book, there had been a garroting, a defenestration, a dismemberment, and a gang rape. Al was out for vengeance.” ….
Well an old dick getting wrapped up in a paperback thriller, and about to embark into a thriller of his own… seems like a good place to leave you…get some old dick in your life. More highlights of course visible —
https://www.goodreads.com/notes/39936...
Final thought, this coulda, woulda, shoulda be made into a film… potential for a great comic noir flick. Harvey Keitel, a bit too old to play Jake? So currently casting Jeff Bridges as Jake, and DeNiro was Sal Salami. But open to other suggestions… maybe Marty or one of Coen bros. will read this?
January 10, 2017
Jake Spanner is an aging former private detective who is reluctantly called out of retirement by an unlikely client; a criminal he had helped to put behind bars years ago named Sal Piccolo. Jake at almost 80 years of age battles physical limitations along with the fact that the majority of his contacts and resources are no longer available after so many years having past since he was an active detective. Sal pleads with Jake to take the case of locating his missing grandson, and Jake takes the case with serious reservations. Humorous situations evolve relating to Jake's age combined with his old school tactics that he employs to overcome the disadvantages in locating the grandson. Jake finds out early on that things are much different and less simple than what he's been led to believe by Sal, and interesting twists keep this book rollicking along to the conclusion. THE OLD DICK is an excellent book that really used the concept of an aging detective to full advantage, and is deserving of a 5-star rating with a high recommendation. Next up by L.A. Morse is The Big Enchilada.
February 1, 2015
I am sure I've read Morse's The Big Enchilada eons ago, but I have no record of it. This was the slowest, most boring book I've read in years. I came close to expunging all traces of this effort of Mr. Morse's as well. It finally picked up in the last quarter. I do not recommend this book to any adverse to pain.
August 23, 2018
L.A. Morse does it again! Every time I pick up a book by this man, granted, there's not that many, I ask my self, why I never got to these sooner? Even the man's video guides were genius. This is an author who knows how to write. To bad he did it so seldom.
Seeing how the title is a play on words, I would of thought that this would be filled with that kind of humor. In some ways it is. The old jokes start to steam roll at you a mile a minute. They never grow dull though. Like the "moves like molasses in January." I also thought since the main character was well in to his seventies, that this just wouldn't click for me. I can tell you that I was dead wrong.
The story, obviously, is about a retired detective that is conned into coming back for one more case. The man who brings him back is an old enemy that The Old Dick had put away in jail for years. Why does he want to hire him and not kill him? His grandson has been kidnapped, and he wants to pay the ransom. What follows next is a slippery slope of why's and who's and of course what's. It keeps you guessing till the end. Five solid stars!!!
Seeing how the title is a play on words, I would of thought that this would be filled with that kind of humor. In some ways it is. The old jokes start to steam roll at you a mile a minute. They never grow dull though. Like the "moves like molasses in January." I also thought since the main character was well in to his seventies, that this just wouldn't click for me. I can tell you that I was dead wrong.
The story, obviously, is about a retired detective that is conned into coming back for one more case. The man who brings him back is an old enemy that The Old Dick had put away in jail for years. Why does he want to hire him and not kill him? His grandson has been kidnapped, and he wants to pay the ransom. What follows next is a slippery slope of why's and who's and of course what's. It keeps you guessing till the end. Five solid stars!!!
September 26, 2021
3.5 stars
Dated but still as amusing, this gullible, self-admitted 'old fart', a geriatric Mickey Spillane, complains too much about his age and what he can't do, but he manages enough to overcome a bad guy, get laid, and win the chase. As an octogenarian, this was likely funnier than it might be to younger readers.
Dated but still as amusing, this gullible, self-admitted 'old fart', a geriatric Mickey Spillane, complains too much about his age and what he can't do, but he manages enough to overcome a bad guy, get laid, and win the chase. As an octogenarian, this was likely funnier than it might be to younger readers.
June 13, 2023
Who is checking the puncture & typos!
I liked our protagonist, Jake, as he kept me guessing as well as smiling. The story line was much different than I’m used to, but different isn’t always bad.
One thing: over the last 3-4 years I’ve noticed typos and punctuation errors with a number of books. Is this the norm now from publishing houses? Editing out the window?
I liked our protagonist, Jake, as he kept me guessing as well as smiling. The story line was much different than I’m used to, but different isn’t always bad.
One thing: over the last 3-4 years I’ve noticed typos and punctuation errors with a number of books. Is this the norm now from publishing houses? Editing out the window?
March 1, 2026
The book is well written by someone who obviously loves the old PI novels. The story was all wrapped up but then I noticed I was only at 46% of the way through. Sure enough, a dramatic plot twist ensued.
I had been putting up with the vulgar language, but by 76% I figured I had other books I'd rather read.
I had been putting up with the vulgar language, but by 76% I figured I had other books I'd rather read.
June 24, 2023
78 year old retired PI Jake Spanner is forced out retirement when an old gangster seeking revenge gets Jake caught in the middle of gangsters, the police, and a psychopath. Jake is slow, weak, and broke, but still finds away to get the job done. Enjoyable take on the hard boiled private eye.
July 16, 2022
Good stuff.
This was very enjoyable, in a slightly uncomfortable way, given the relative nearness of my age to that of the protagonist.
This was very enjoyable, in a slightly uncomfortable way, given the relative nearness of my age to that of the protagonist.
September 13, 2022
Retired, old private eye gets involved with a former cohort and insanity follows. Lots of wacky characters, violence, a little sex, total confusion and chaos. Major fun.
July 3, 2023
A great detective story with well developed characters. Love the plot twists. Another nice light read.
March 10, 2024
Couldn't stop reading.
The book was similar to Sam Spade and other private "I"s but when their retired and in their late seventies.
The book was similar to Sam Spade and other private "I"s but when their retired and in their late seventies.
April 8, 2025
Ok, but not all that great.
September 23, 2016
I enjoyed this. It was fun having the story told from the perspective of an old man (As I am one too). Good plot with plenty of twists to keep you going.
Want to read
May 6, 2019Synopsis: retired PI, Jake Spanner has still got it. A gangster he put away years ago shows up, so he grabs his hat and automatic.
December 4, 2015
Edgar Mystery. Award winner in 1983, reminds me of an old Sam Spade!
This is my second reading of the book. Hero is Jake Spanner, 78. year old retired PI, sucked (or suckered) into trying to solve one last case, involving an old enemy, supposedly dead for two years! 73 myself, I identify with Jake's physical problems and like that he has the guts to accomplish daunting tasks. I LOVE. this book, especially the ending, which I did NOT see coming!
This is my second reading of the book. Hero is Jake Spanner, 78. year old retired PI, sucked (or suckered) into trying to solve one last case, involving an old enemy, supposedly dead for two years! 73 myself, I identify with Jake's physical problems and like that he has the guts to accomplish daunting tasks. I LOVE. this book, especially the ending, which I did NOT see coming!
January 21, 2017
Old dicks are the best dicks, it seems. Jake Spanner is 78, broke and impotent, but it doesn't stop him from investigating a kidnapping, beating up drug lords and generally making a nuisance of himself. Beautiful young women love old dicks, and beg to make sweet love to them within hours of meeting for the first time. Never again will I pity a lonely old man sitting on a park bench. He probably has a more action-packed life than I do.
December 2, 2013
A fun read.
April 13, 2017
I love this novel about a retired private detective. Lots of humor, but deals with age without adding slapstick humor. The older I get, the more I can identify with this guy. The ending is wonderful.
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