Crumley Time

I can't recall if I've talked about James Crumley before... but I am going to talk about him now. I found out about him during a aprés shower conversation I had with another man. What?!!! Wait... I better explain and fast. I was at a resort where they had a hot tub, steam room, spa thing. I love reading by the pool, especially in the dead of winter. I carried my book into the changing room afterward and a guy asked me what I was reading. When another guy asks you what you are reading, it means he is probably a reader, too. I was reading Lansdale and said so, knowing he wouldn't have heard of him. Well, to prove me wrong, he had and he was a big fan. Anyway - this story is sounding blog-familiar - the long and the short was he recommended Crumley to me. It took a while to track down his work, and then I found out he recently died in 2008.

The first book I read was BorderSnakes.... or tired to read. It was a rambling mess and I wondered what my Spa Buddy was talking about. Then I found The Last Good Kiss, and wow, I knew what he was talking about. Raymond Chandler meets Hunter S. Thompson (not my comparsion, but a good one). Uneven strange poetic prose, which can catch fire and burst into put the book down brilliance.

Lately, I have been reading The Right Madness, Crumley's last book before his death. I am saddened while reading it that this guy did not acheive more acclaim. I read, and understand, that he has influenced a lot of writers, and not just in the crime fiction genre.

He is influencing me for sure. I am already thinking of stories that happen in lonely bars, with broken down cops, detectives, handguns, and lots of bottles of scotch. Sounds like another novel.