Benjamin Whitmer, the author of Pike: It’s been a very good year for reading on my end. A year ago I knew as much about crime fiction as Sarah Brady knows about firearms handling, but in the last few months I’ve run across the most generous gang of literati one could ever hope to find, and they’ve been expanding my horizons one recommendation at a time. It turns out the world of crime fiction is not only broader and deeper than I’d ever imagined, it’s also populated by the nicest folks in the world.
And the best part is that I’ve only started in on all the recommendations I’ve gotten, so I expect next year’s reading will be the best yet
But, anyway, in no particular order, the best crime novels I read this year (or, at least, five of them):
The Chieu Hoi Saloon by Michael Harris. I should put a disclaimer here: Harris and I both saw our debut novels published by Switchblade, PM Press’s noir imprint. That said, it wouldn’t matter who published The Chieu Hoi Saloon, I’d have fallen in love with the novel no matter how I chanced upon it. It’s shot through with the kind of lonesome self-loathing that’d set James Ellroy to sucking on his .45, and then infused with a glimmer of hard-earned hope that might just set him to weeping.
A Glass of Water by Jimmy Santiago Baca. Like many people, I first became aware of Baca by reading his prison poetry. You know that old cliché about the tough but tender convict, somehow purified by his time on the inside who comes out to pass judgment on the outside world? Yeah, he’s like that, and this, his first novel, is everything that his poetry is: startling, fierce, and vivid.
The Chandler Apartments by Owen Hill. Of all the novels I read this year, I don’t think I purely enjoyed any as much as this one. It’s a cunning and witty read, almost Wodehousian in its humor, and the Berkeley poet and bookbuyer who serves as our sometimes detective is irresistibly clever, even when breaking kneecaps and offing the occasional dame. It just made me happy all the way through.
Lethal Injection by Jim Nisbet. This one had my full attention from the opening scene, wherein a Texas death row inmate, Bobby Mencken, snaps the neck of an infamously racist guard on the eve of his execution. And that was one of the lighter moments in the book. I started to notice that every time I read a chapter, I‘d spend an hour or two cleaning my guns and checking the door locks. And I can’t think of a better recommendation.
Late Rain by Lynn Kostoff. The thing about Late Rain is it’s so perfectly constructed, the characters arcing so neatly and the plot advancing so naturally, that you just have no way to expect it to crack wide open in the brilliant way it does. It’s the kind of writing that, without being gimmicky, manages to do its work in new and wonderful ways.
Segueing now from somebody else praising Kostoff’s work to the man himself praising somebody else – Lynn Kostoff the author of Late Rain: (In no particular order/rank):
Jim Nisbet: The Damned Don't Die. Loaned out my Black Lizard copy in 1986 and never got it back. Picked up the new Overlook Press release and reread it. As much dark fun in 2010 as 1986.
Charlie Stella: Johnny Porno. One of the very best crime writers working today. Stark House knew what it was doing when it brought out JP. The dialogue is, of course, masterful, and Stella delivers on every page. He gets better with each book, and that’s saying a lot.
Benjamin Whitmer: Pike. Sam Peckinpah’s one of my all-time favorite directors. If he were alive, he’d have already bought the rights to Pike and taken Ben Whitmer out for a long evening of drinks.
Nate Flexer: The Disassembled Man. The inaugural offering and my favorite from NEW PULP PRESS. Noir with an attitude. Flexer’s the real thing.
Re-Reads: Sara Gran - Come Closer and Dope. Megan Abbott - Die a Little and Bury Me Deep. Daniel Woodrell - Tomato Red and The Death of Sweet Mister. Charles Portis - True Grit and The Dog of the South. Signature styles and top-shelf storytelling. Every time I read one of these writers’ works, I’m reminded why I wanted to be a writer in the first place.
Dennis Tafoya the author of The Wolves of Fairmount Park loved the:
Films - Animal Kingdom, Square, The Horseman, A Prophet
and books - The Best American Crime Reporting 2010 (edited by Otto Penzler,Thomas Cook and Stephen J. Dubner), The Wettest County in the World, by Matt Bondurant, Come on All You Ghosts (poetry) by Matthew Zapruder, The Big Short by Michael Lewis
Finally, Jack Clark author of Nobodys Angel keeps it tight and succinct just like his novel:
I would recommend Every Man Dies Alone by Hans Fallada, to anyone who loves books and reading. The novel is based on a German couple's futile resistance to the Nazi in Berlin during World War II. It was written in German in 1947, and it's probably not surprising that it took more than 60 years for it to be translated into English. There was little sympathy for German civilians after the horrors of the Third Reich. But, as the book shows, ordinary Germans were also Hitler's victims. Fallada gets right next to his characters. The book is as compelling and suspenseful as any good mystery novel, and the ending is even more heartbreaking than the title. Saddest of all, this is just one of millions of horror stories from that long, dark war.
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Friday, I'll have the other picks, but man, my TBR pile just grew six inches, how 'bout yours?
Jedidiah Ayres writes fiction and keeps the blog Hardboiled Wonderland.
