Andrew
Yes, that Thomas Dolby ("Science!").
This is the coming-of-age story of young Davey Haskell, a poor Maine lobsterman who dreams of competing in the prestigious America's Cup yacht race.
The one positive of this book is that Dolby, himself a passionate sailing enthusiast, does an accurate and admirable job conveying the action of early 20th century yacht racing. There are some awkward, but necessary, expository sections when a particular bit of technical sailing knowledge needs to introduced, but overall the racing sequences are the best part of the book.
Unfortunately, they can't overcome the otherwise thin plot and one-note characters. A sassy, no-nonsense Latina nurse? A fiery but kind-hearted Irish scullery maid? A cool, smooth-talking Black doorman who takes Davey under his wing? There's room for all of them and more.
The story particularly falters at the finish line with an unearned and unrealstically sacchrine sweet bow to tie everything up.
Yes, that Thomas Dolby ("Science!").
This is the coming-of-age story of young Davey Haskell, a poor Maine lobsterman who dreams of competing in the prestigious America's Cup yacht race.
The one positive of this book is that Dolby, himself a passionate sailing enthusiast, does an accurate and admirable job conveying the action of early 20th century yacht racing. There are some awkward, but necessary, expository sections when a particular bit of technical sailing knowledge needs to introduced, but overall the racing sequences are the best part of the book.
Unfortunately, they can't overcome the otherwise thin plot and one-note characters. A sassy, no-nonsense Latina nurse? A fiery but kind-hearted Irish scullery maid? A cool, smooth-talking Black doorman who takes Davey under his wing? There's room for all of them and more.
The story particularly falters at the finish line with an unearned and unrealstically sacchrine sweet bow to tie everything up.
Another great comedic caper starring Dortmunder, Kelp, and Murch from "The Hot Rock," and introducing a few new criminal accomplices.
There is a section just before a pivotal piece of the heist is pulled off, that Westlake breaks away from the action and introduces seven new characters, lays out their interpersonal relationships and daily routines, then goes into an extremely detailed play-by-play of their poker game. And I say this with admiration and respect: he is clearly showing off. Westlake works his prose like an expert sleight-of-hand magician. "Look at how easily I can draw you in," he says. "Look at how effortlessly I can hold your attention. Pay no attention to all the action that's going on just outside of your perception." He sets the scene so well that you not only willingly accept the preposterous nature of the heist but come to think of it as inevitable.
Another great comedic caper starring Dortmunder, Kelp, and Murch from "The Hot Rock," and introducing a few new criminal accomplices.
There is a section just before a pivotal piece of the heist is pulled off, that Westlake breaks away from the action and introduces seven new characters, lays out their interpersonal relationships and daily routines, then goes into an extremely detailed play-by-play of their poker game. And I say this with admiration and respect: he is clearly showing off. Westlake works his prose like an expert sleight-of-hand magician. "Look at how easily I can draw you in," he says. "Look at how effortlessly I can hold your attention. Pay no attention to all the action that's going on just outside of your perception." He sets the scene so well that you not only willingly accept the preposterous nature of the heist but come to think of it as inevitable.
This is a good story in its own right, but is also fascinating as a pop cultural time capsule. Published in 1956, this book is one of the predecessors of the modern police procedural but it reads almost like an anti-thriller. As one character says early in the story, you don't have to be smart to be a detective; you just have to be persistent enough to keep chasing leads. And then they spend the next hundred pages slowly and methodically chasing down leads.
You could not write a book like this today because the way cops are portrayed in media, the way they think about themselves, the public opinion on crime, gang violence, etc., is so radically different from the attitude of the 1950s. Gangs in this book are described as teenagers in matching jackets who occasionally get into rumbles and it's treated like, "Oh, boys will be boys." A cop's partner is gunned down by the killer and instead of going crazy with grief or dragging in any suspect he can get his hands on, the cop essentially shrugs it off, says it could happen to anyone, and goes back to flipping through ID books. There's one amusing bit where the lab techs have to explain how they can identify the killer's blood type from a sample, because that type of forensics was so relatively new at the time that it wasn't necessarily in the public consciousness yet.
The dialogue was snappy and it's a fast reading book thst left me very interested in reading more of the lengthy 87th Precinct series to see if and how the portrayal of cops in the media changes over the decades.
This is a good story in its own right, but is also fascinating as a pop cultural time capsule. Published in 1956, this book is one of the predecessors of the modern police procedural but it reads almost like an anti-thriller. As one character says early in the story, you don't have to be smart to be a detective; you just have to be persistent enough to keep chasing leads. And then they spend the next hundred pages slowly and methodically chasing down leads.
You could not write a book like this today because the way cops are portrayed in media, the way they think about themselves, the public opinion on crime, gang violence, etc., is so radically different from the attitude of the 1950s. Gangs in this book are described as teenagers in matching jackets who occasionally get into rumbles and it's treated like, "Oh, boys will be boys." A cop's partner is gunned down by the killer and instead of going crazy with grief or dragging in any suspect he can get his hands on, the cop essentially shrugs it off, says it could happen to anyone, and goes back to flipping through ID books. There's one amusing bit where the lab techs have to explain how they can identify the killer's blood type from a sample, because that type of forensics was so relatively new at the time that it wasn't necessarily in the public consciousness yet.
The dialogue was snappy and it's a fast reading book thst left me very interested in reading more of the lengthy 87th Precinct series to see if and how the portrayal of cops in the media changes over the decades.
