Although one shouldn’t equate others with their most “notorious” work, I find that I have misjudged the authors of television and film adaptations as being limited to those efforts. I did this with Max Allen Collins and I have done this with Lee Goldberg. I should have known better with the latter, especially due to his screenwriting credits on several television series—most conspicuously on my radar, Monk. I didn’t even have to read ten (10) pages in The Man with the Iron-On Badge before I knew that this was, as the Monte Python group used to say, “…something completely different.”
Oh, The Man with the Iron-On Badge still featured Goldberg’s humor and penchant for turning the most ridiculous situation into black comedy, but it also features language that would have sent Adrian Monk looking for a “wipe” for his ears and an obsession for sex that would have left the adolescents in Porky’s looking as abstemious as Bernard of Clairvaux. And it features the most fascinating conceit of an ambitionless rent-a-cop who spends the graveyard shift watching Mannix and The Rockford Files re-runs at his guard shack being thrust into situations where he is uniquely unqualified compared to those television P.I.s who could shrug off bullet-holes, concussions, and near-fatal beatings to solve crimes/mysteries within an hour (minus the commercial insertions) of broadcast entertainment.
The Man with the Iron-On Badge should probably have a wide yellow bad with a bold, black lettered disclaimer reading, “Kids, don’t try this is real-life. Imitation may cause physical pain, emotional duress, biological discomfort, and fatal consequences.” Indeed, Harvey Mapes personally suffers the first three while others seem to be sacrificed in his place for the last. Sorry if that’s a spoiler! No author in her or his right mind would kill off a protagonist this hapless, hilarious, and interesting in the first volume where said character appears. [NOTE: I suppose the screenwriter of The Third Man did this with Harry Lime, subsequently to be resurrected in a serious of radio episodes touted as prequels, but I can’t think of any others off-hand. I can’t imagine Billy Wilder writing prequels to Sunset Boulevard, even if Lord Weber did pull “the boy” out of the pool every night on the musical stage.]
Still, Harvey Mapes pulls off some incredibly lucky stunts, despite his misguided perception that, instead of being like a box of chocolates, life is like a television series. And, Harvey makes some predictable mistakes. In between the lucky stunts and the predictable mistakes is a fascinating mystery with some unexpected twists and turns. I could have done without some of the Tarantino-esque phrasing and the Seth Rogen-esque obsessions, but The Man with the Iron-On Badge was good reading, nonetheless.