I reviewed this on 13APR20 and gave it 3 Stars. I'm reading it again and wish I could travel in time and bitch-slap myself for those 3 Stars. Me love Don Winslow, not always, but when he's awesome, I should recognize it. Maybe it was the funk of the Covid lock-down (quite extreme in Spain) that fueled my bitterness, but life is great now so I've updated that bitchy 3 to 5.
This book could not have come at a better time for me as I am now entering my 5th week of lock-down here in Spain. This means that I can only leave my apartment for essential things like buying groceries. Skype calls and piano practice can only take me so far, and forget about TV. I’m so bored that I am considering watching Tiger King. I’m sort of saving that like the last can of pork and beans in my pantry, or whatever the canned food equivalent of the series may be.
So, when I read in the New York Times that Don Winslow has released a book of short novellas, I was all over it. I inhaled them like my life depended on it, and it did in a way. My mental health certainly needed a major distraction. I sat out in the sun on my little balcony with coffee in my very comfortable Adirondack chair and ripped through these stories like a bullet through soggy drywall.
Even though I was disappointed in this collection, I read the damn thing in 24 hours. I really, really needed something that was completely engrossing and made me forget that I couldn’t go outside on a gorgeous spring day and ride my bike along the Mediterranean, something that I have never taken for granted on any of the thousands of bike rides that I have already taken here but will cherish even more if I can just do it one more time.
I thank Don Winslow for a very good day. Now what the f@ck do I do today?
Broken
This was a little too cliché for my taste and about as complicated as it’s similarly titled cousin, the film Taken. Jimmy and little brother Danny McNabb are both cops in New Orleans. Jimmy is violent and angry while little brother is gentle and does volunteer work at a center that gives care to abandoned chihuahuas and Yorkshire terriers, or something like that. Not much went into the little brother character.
You can guess what happens next. Either little brother mans up to help out big brother, or big brother goes on crazed torture-killing spree to avenge his precious younger sibling. Little brother’s killer seems to have broken into the Madrid Museum of the Spanish Inquisition to steal torture gadgets and books on torture to fully paint himself as the truly evil bad guy in this story.
The police radios are silent, but Eva’s board is lighting up like a Christmas tree on crack.
I’ve never seen a Christmas tree on crack.
Always the first one through the door, right?
Like I’ve never heard that line a million times on cop shows and in novels. I think a good rule should be, if you’ve heard a line before, leave it out.
And this description of a kitchen ravaged by a grenade blast I thought was good.
Oven door hanging open, crooked on one hinge, like a broken jaw.
In conclusion, revenge is a dish best served with a ginormous shoot-out in a residential high-rise building complete with rockets and hand grenades.
For Mister Steve McQueen
Crime 101
This story is dedicated to Steve McQueen, an actor I never really thought much of. He begins with the description of the Pacific Coast Highway (Highway 101, get it?) and the moves on to rhapsodizing over a Shelby Mustang, the modern version of McQueen’s ride in Bullitt, a totally over-rated film, at least on my list.
Crime 101’s first rule is “Keep it simple” followed by “When you need to get away, you need to do it fast” which, considering the description of the muscle car, seems to be in direct contradiction to the first rule of keeping it simple. A better getaway car would probably be the nondescript, piece-of-shit driven by Lieutenant Lou Lubesnick. You could run over an eyewitness in a Honda Civic and they wouldn’t be able to spot that car in a police line-up.
This is far from the cleverest heist tale I’ve ever read. The first robbery is simply a hold-up. Granted, there was a lot of stealth and investigation that went into the robbery, but it was a fairly pedestrian stick-up. I loved the detective and his instant move towards moral depravity.
For Mr. Elmore Leonard
The San Diego Zoo
How could you not love a story that begins, “No one knows how the chimp got the revolver.” Do you need anything else? That’s like the set up and the punchline all in nine words. This one was funny as hell and a nice little police procedural on top of that. Definitely my favorite of the lot and the one most likely to spawn a recurring role by the character of Chris, and possibly Champ the Chimp. It's almost unfair how this is so funny because and armed monkey is just a barrel of laughs, otherwise known as a barrel of monkeys.
Sunset
Sunset segues from the mention of the bail bondsman, Duke Kasmajian who was with Lieutenant Lou at a baseball game in the previous story—I guess it pays to read these in order. Winslow brings back Boone Daniels in this tale of an ex-surf legend as well as his Neal Carrey invention. It could get crowded in here.
Detective Lou is a great invention, although I don't recollect if he is on loan from another Winslow novel. If not, he deserves more room, he needs to be let out (like me in my confinement) and have his own novel.
Paradise
Savages was my least-favorite Winslow novel, second least favorite may have been the prequel, The Kings of Cools, so I really wasn’t welcoming the return of the protagonists from this tale.
O is way to freaking stupid to ever be sexy.
“I guess I wanted someone to raise me,” O says. “When no one did, I just got mad and refused to raise myself.”
Pete says, “You're a smart young lady, O.”
Sorry, she isn’t. Sorry, there is nothing sexy and certainly nothing cool about being willfully ignorant of the world around you. She's a total dope and I see no reason why these two guys would dig her for anything other than sex. Granted, that's important, but if you have money, sex is easy to find.
Ben sits on the lanai reading a Borges novel.
Borges wrote a novel? Must have missed it.
And then comes an introduction, of sorts. Mr. Shit, meet Mr. Fan.
On my first reading, I guess I wasn't in the mood for so much action and an OK Corral shout-out at the end, but this time, for whatever reason, I enjoyed it, a lot.