You got in close, you pointed, you fired. It wasn’t rocket science, for God’s sake. It wasn’t neurosurgery. Anyone could do it.
Initially, I was a little disappointed to find out the the book of the month chosen by my group is a collection of short stories instead of a full blown novel, but I should have trusted in the talent of Lawrence Block to make the best out of the premise. There is a good reason why he was voted Grand Master by his fellow mystery writers, and the Keller stories are an excellent showcase for his talent.
What’s more, these are not just random episodes in the life of a contract killer, but an in-depth and solidly anchored character study enlivened by a delightfully lurid streak of black humour and by the author’s signature witty dialogues. Each case is also standing on its own legs, as an independent episode, as they appeared initially in literary magazines [Playboy?], but in my opinion they are better experienced in the logical order arranged for this first book in the series, as they track the main character career in an approximate chronological order.
I never had any interest in it or any aptitude for it, but it turns out you don’t need any. All you need is to be able to do it. I did it once because somebody told me to, and I did it a second time because somebody told me to, and before I knew it was what I did.
The deadpan delivery of puns in the rapid fire conversations between Keller and his assistant/handler Dot were extremely familiar and I struggled for a bit to remember why, until the sardonic social commentary, the casual descriptions of the murders and the absurdly comical misunderstandings that crop up regularly clicked. I think my AHA! moment came in the short story about Keller going to a psychiatrist for his depression:
Dr. Oatman: Don't kill anybody for a few days. See what it feels like.
Martin Q. Blank: All right, I'll give it a shot.
Dr. Oatman: No, don't give it a shot! Don't shoot anything!
The dialogue quoted here is from one of my favourite movies, where another contract killer [Marty] has a too-casual approach to his job and likes to exchange barbed puns with his secretary, Marcella. I’m referring of course to ‘Grosse Pointe Blank’ from 1997, a year before ‘Hit Man’ was published. I don’t think Block can be accused of borrowing, because the original Keller stories appeared in magazines before the movie. Yet the similarity is striking for me, especially in terms of how much fun I had with both contract killers.
“Well, this is good ice tea, as far as that goes. Made with real tea.”
“And real ice, I’ll bet.”
Lawrence Block knows his crime traditions, and there is one more classic movie that I saw recently and that is referenced directly in here, with a famous quote from 1948:
He didn’t much feel like a scoundrel. He felt like your basic New York single guy, living alone, eating out or bringing home takeout, schlepping his wash to the laundromat, doing the ‘Times’ crossword with his morning coffee. Working out at the gym, starting doomed relationships with women, going to the movies by himself. There were eight million stories in the naked city, most of them not very interesting, and his was one of them.
This also explains how the author managed to make Keller so relatable, despite of his chosen profession: he is just a regular guy, doing his job, getting bored and depressed with his life, looking around at the crazy world he lives in and wondering what to make of it.
The actual action in each chapter is usually delivered in a couple of lines, almost like an afterthought [... oh, yes ... and then I killed him ... and went back home], with the rest of the time spent by Keller just trying to make it through to the end of another bleak day.
‘The Last Word in Lonesome Is Me’
Keller has to be able to leave his house at the drop of a phone call, travel to the other end of the country, kill a perfect stranger there, and then come back and resume his ‘regular’ life. His contracts are delivered through a clearing house in a nearby town [White Plains], making it all impersonal and hopefully professional.
The chronology I was referring to in my earlier commentary refers to the progressive corruption of Keller’s system which results in several mishaps, and to his growing restlessness that leads him first to a psychiatrist couch, later to owning a dog, to women troubles [what can you expect when you date someone you met at a course called ‘Deciphering the Mysteries of Baltic Cuisine’ ?] and, finally, to something that could fill up the empty spaces in his life:
“I’ll be damned, Keller. It sounds for all the world as though you’ve got yourself a hobby. You’re a whatchamacallit, a philatelist.”
Yet, before we earn this practical solution to Keller’s existential crisis, we are treated to a whole series of dismal motel rooms, long hours of surveillance in a rented car, boozy conversations in bars that play only sad country music, the dreariness of finding something worthy on TV, several decades before the Netflix debacle:
The hard part was finding something to pass the time. He went to a movie, walked through a mall, and watched a lot of television. [...]
It might be easier to change the channels now, but it was harder than ever to find anything he wanted to see.
It struck Keller that there ought to be some sort of solution that didn’t involve lowering the population. But he knew he was the person least likely to come up with it.
The one constant from one mission to the next is Keller’s vague, unspecific desire to change something in his life, to escape from the routine he let himself drift into, even as he, perversely, takes pride in the professional way he always ‘solves’ the puzzle of how to dispatch his targets.
Perhaps the best thing about dogs, it seemed to Keller, was that you could talk to them. They made much better listeners than human beings did. You didn’t have to worry that you were boring them, or that they’d heard a particular story before, or that they’d think less of you for what you were revealing about yourself.
No matter how often Keller visits homes on sale in remote small towns, or wonders if country life is better than living in a big city, or if a pet can replace the necessity of speaking with other people, our hit man always returns to his old haunts. Keller is the most typical of New Yorkers, just as Dot explains it to him, and his dreams of other lives are just a fantasy to ease his boredom when he is away from home.
Keller, who lived in a one-bedroom apartment in midtown Manhattan, had no lawn to mow. There was a tree in front of his building, planted and diligently maintained by the Parks Department, and its leaves fell in the fall, but no one needed to rake them. The wind was pretty good about blowing them away. Snow, when it didn’t melt of its own accord, was shoveled from the sidewalk by the building’s superintendent, who kept the elevator running and replaced burned-out bulbs in the hall fixtures and dealt with minor plumbing emergencies. Keller had a low-maintenance life, really. All he had to do was pay the rent on time and everything else got taken care of by other people.
He liked it that way.
Lawrence Block is a regular New Yorker himself, and I believe he too loves his big city comforts, just like Keller, and maybe this is why his portrait of the man and of the city is so persuasive. I found these insights into modern living, with the accompanying social commentary about popular culture, politics and economic inequalities [ ... he very likely billed it to his company, or took it off his taxes. Or, if his accountant was enterprising, both. ] as captivating as the subversive ways the author finds to derail the murder plans of Keller and to make him re-examine what he does for a living.
Not that he ever seriously considers changing careers mid-journey. This Keller [his first name is John Paul, but that appears I think only once or twice in the whole book] somehow manages to speak to me more about modern life than about the nuts and bolts of how to get away with murder. He does that too, because we should not forget this is a crime caper.
Guns Don’t Kill People Unless You Aim Real Good !
These surprises are best left to each reader to discover as they come along, so I will not do a synopsis for any of the ten episodes included here. I’m not even sure I will remember after a few months the actual details of each episode, except maybe the one with the doctor, the one with the double contract and the one with the secret government agent:
- ‘Keller’s Therapy’
- ‘Keller’s Choice’
- ‘Keller’s Last Refuge’
I guess I could call these my favourites, but that doesn’t mean the other stories are of less quality, or that they don’t add something to the composite image of the contract killer. I believe the lasting impression will be this character growth that was revealed to us in a progressive manner:
“They tend to call us expediters,” Keller said, “but troubleshooter is what it amounts to.”
The journey doesn’t end here, and from low expectations I ended up with a growing appreciation of Lawrence Block as a master storyteller and with a genuine desire to continue with the Keller format:
“Give the man an exploding cigar.”