Did Robert B. Parker ever write a bad sentence? The question arose as I read Parker's latest Spenser novel, Painted Ladies. The book has a bittersweet aura. I always enjoy Parker's spare prose and crackling dialogue seasoned with wisecracks and literary allusions. Parker writes in the new novel that actors use the word "indicating" to mean the moment when audiences can tell an actor is acting. Parker never indicates that he is writing. But this is a posthumous book. Parker died this past January. There will be one more Spenser novel published next May and supposedly a holiday novel or even others at some point. Every page of this book is haunted by the fact of the author's death.
I used my reading to ponder why Parker was so good. I first ruled out plotting. The books generally have no intricate plots. There aren't red herrings and mysterious clues. Final pages don't offer shocking revelations. Mostly Spenser puts himself in harm's way to lure the evildoers. Some fans don't like Susan Silverman, Spenser's idealized lover, or Pearl, his dog. But they were a crucial part of his world. They propelled his character. Spenser was a gourmet cook, a weight lifter, an ex-cop and ex-boxer, a man who loved to be wanted by women he could then tell that he was taken. Spenser's Boston world was interesting but not interesting enough to explain the character's success.
Many of Spenser's fans believe that Spenser's relationship with Hawk is the key ingredient. The idea of two males of different races joining in friendship is deeply embedded in American literature. And, indeed, much of the banter between the two men takes note of Hawk's blackness and therefore his differences with Spenser. But Hawk's appeal is not really because of racial complementarity. The appeal stems from Hawk's toughness. Spenser is hard; Hawk is steel. Spenser is a descendent of Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe who, unlike, say, Hercule Poirot or Miss Marple, discovered that reason was enough to solve crimes. They had to mix a quick intelligence with brute force. Spenser and Hawk both had that mix, but Hawk was more willing to rely on the force. His understanding of the human condition didn't have Spenser's romantic dimension. The two men were two sides of a single total hero. Hawk was the rougher side, the godfather of many characters who would emerge as the more violent sidekicks of detective heroes. Think of Joe Pike who teams with Elvis Cole in Robert Crais' books or Win Lockwood who teams with Myron Bolitar in Harlan Coben's books.
What separates Spenser from relying solely on his physical prowess is his code of ethics. Susan reminds him of that code. His work tempts him to cross the line. It is this internal struggle between thug and hero that is the moral center of every book. Spenser is both civilized and discontented with civilization. He knows what the real world is like but struggles to create his own honorable world within the real one.
Parker's books about Spenser are dramatic morality plays, often about women or adolescents in trouble. Spenser makes readers see the gradations of morality, the interstices of relationships where insights often hide. If we readers can't go around punching people the way Spenser does, we nevertheless can learn from him how to see the moral dimensions in our own lives in new and deeper ways. We can learn from Robert B. Parker how to be detectives of the human soul.
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I misread it the first time as "the defective hero."
Posted by: Ludwig Lewisohn | October 08, 2010 at 04:02 PM
Your eye found its own truth. I admire the writer from whom you get your pseudonym.
Posted by: Larry Epstein | October 08, 2010 at 04:36 PM
Thank you for this most enjoyable post, Larry. I am among the few who respond with almost equal ardor to the best of the hard-boiled guys (Chandler, Hammett, et al) and the puzzlers that Dame Agatha and Mr John Dickson Carr were so expert at contriving. Are you in the same category? Who are your favorites?
Posted by: DL | October 09, 2010 at 05:13 PM
I am eclectic in my tastes as well, David. I liked all the usual suspects, especially Hammett. At one point, I liked Dorothy Sayers the best, but time has altered my view. There are so many I could name, such as James M. Cain and Ross Thomas. Among contemporaries, I've just begun reading Michael Connelly's new book, and I always enjoy Robert Crais. I have a sentimental attraction to Erle Stanley Gardner and Rex Stout, primarily because they provided much comfort to my father in his last years. I had never seen him read a book and was surprised when he asked me for one. We had watched the Perry Mason tv show, so I started with Gardner. Mysteries, I suspect, mean a lot to a lot of people.
Posted by: Larry Epstein | October 09, 2010 at 05:50 PM
Larry, I'd like to start reading Parker. Do you have two or three titles you'd recommend to get into his world? Thanks.
Posted by: jim cummins | October 09, 2010 at 06:56 PM
Thanks for asking, Jim. There are several possible approaches. As with many series, there is a benefit to reading the Spenser books chronologically. "The Godwulf Manuscript" was the first one, but I don't think it's the best. For a fair sampler of Spenser you might try "Looking for Rachel Wallace" or "A Catskill Eagle" or "Early Autumn." And, although I'm not particularly attracted to westerns as a genre, Parker's entries beginning with "Appaloosa" are great.
Larry
Posted by: Larry Epstein | October 09, 2010 at 07:23 PM
Thanks, Larry. Will start there.
Posted by: jim cummins | October 10, 2010 at 12:27 PM
Yes, Parker, Kellerman and Corbin all write above standard prose. What makes the first two readable is the ethical foils - in Kellerman it is both his girfriend and Hawk's minority counterpart, Miles, the gay Jewish detective. Corbin's humor gets him a pass. But they are necessarily formulaic. They are storytelers and are not novelists in the sense of a Philip Roth, Richard Powers, E.L. Doctorow or other modern masters of the American novel. There is a lack of substance.
Posted by: Lee Marc Stein | October 10, 2010 at 07:33 PM
Thanks for the comment, Lee. Let me start by noting that I like Roth, Powers, and Doctorow. But I think your distinction is too sharp. There are good storytellers and bad ones, just like there are good novelists and bad ones. For me, the novel's unique contribution to literature rests on its storytelling foundation. The "modern masters" you cite start by being wonderful storytellers. That is, I would put the great storytellers and great novelists together in the center of literature with poor storytellers at one fringe and novelists who eschew story at the other. This is not a strictly literary judgment but a personal one.
Larry
Posted by: Larry Epstein | October 10, 2010 at 08:21 PM
I wonder how the detective as a hero differs from say the gangster as tragic hero in Warshow's essay.
Posted by: Sarah Makepeace | October 20, 2010 at 11:26 PM
Sincere friendship (a poem):
The sky befriends earth
the clouds are sympathetic
night befriends the stars
Spike Jones shook Jim's hand
Jim Cummins is my good friend
Therefore Spike's my pal
Posted by: DL | October 21, 2010 at 11:02 PM