“There are eight million stories in the naked city," he intoned. "You remember that program? Used to be on television some years back."
"I remember."
"They had that line at the end of every show. ‘There are eight million stories in the naked city. This has been one of them.’ "
"I remember it."
"Eight million stories," he said. "You know what you got in this city, this fucked-up toilet of a naked fucking city? You know what you got? You got eight million ways to die”--Durkin
I just read John Snyder’s graphic novel adaptation of Lawrence Block’s Eight Million Ways to Die and liked it, and even the author—with a lot of well-informed Goodreads reviewers—felt it was a faithful version of his story, gritty and moving. So now I can also say I think Snyder’s adaptation of Block’s book was great, though the original—you won’t be surprised to hear, dear readers all—is even better. I listened to it while driving around the last couple days.
Ostensibly this is a hard-boiled story about a murdered prostitute, but at its foundation is really a story about an alcoholic, former police detective Matt Scudder, seeking expiation for a "sin" though he doesn't even know if he believes in any God. He's not religious. Scudder had been married, has two children, but when he accidentally kills a seven year-old girl with a stray bullet, he quits his job on the police force, quits his marriage and begins to kill himself through drinking. He has to make rent, so he does the one thing he knows how to do, (unlicensed) detective work. At an AA meeting he meets Kim Dakkinen, a prostitute who wants out of “the life” and he agrees to talk to her pimp. Everything goes smoothly, until she is killed. This is a moment that follows:
“I thought, My name is Matt and I'm an alcoholic. A woman I know got killed last night. She hired me to keep her from getting killed and I wound up assuring her that she was safe and she believed me. . . she's dead now, and there's nothing I can do about it. And it eats at me and I don't know what to do about that, and there's a bar on every corner and a liquor store on every block, and drinking won't bring her back to life but neither will staying sober.”
The story expands on his relationship with the pimp, Chance, who we all think initially has killed Kim, until he hires Scudder to find who did it. In the story we also get to know some of Kim's fellow prostitutes in the process of his investigation. We also get to better know his informant, Danny, and his cynical detective buddy Durkin. The dialogue is great, the characters are real and the realest and most affecting is Scudder, who alternates his work with daily AA meetings where he never speaks. He nearly does kill himself drinking. Not a believer, he tithes, and is in a sense doing penance for the death no one will blame him for except himself. When another hooker dies, we see that these women matter to him.
Mysteries are often largely little escapist puzzles, exercises in style, but in the hands of a master like Block, wow. You wouldn’t think a title like this would yield so much feeling, but I’ll admit it, at the end I had to brush away a tear. I'd read this series in order, but this is one of the best in this genre I have ever read.
Almost always, a series should be read in order, as it features the development of the world over time. And this is true for this series. But I did read this book forst and still loved it, if you only have time to read one Scudder book. But there are many great ones in this series, And in his mid-eighties, author Block is still very productive, having released multiple books in the past year.