Review of Fun and Games by Duane Swierczynski (Mulholland, 2011)

Charlie Hardie used to be an off-the-record security consultant to the Philadelphia police. Then three years ago a case he was working on went badly wrong. Now Charlie house sits for the rich and famous, drinking booze and watching old movies whilst making sure the house stays in one piece whilst their owners are on holiday or film location. His latest assignment is to guard the house of a composer. Only when he turns up there’s a D-list actress hiding out in the house who claims she is being hunted by professional hitmen – the Accident People. Charlie decides she’s whacko, but then strange things start to happen and it soon becomes apparent they are under siege. The only way out seems to be in a body bag unless they can find a way to survive.

The premise of Fun and Games is a great one – that for a price there are a bunch of Hollywood directors who script ‘accidents’, creating deaths which are accompanied by a plausible narrative. The accidents are then played out by a group of unscrupulous actors and professional hitmen using a van load of tricks. For me this was a book of two halves. In the first half, the book felt like this was Swierczynski’s attempt to cross-over into the mainstream. It lacked the edge and other-worldliness of his other novels. There was also a huge over use of the character’s name, with Hardie appearing dozens of times on each page. Once I started to read ‘he’ instead it read more fluidly. The second half felt much more like a Swierczynski story – bold, brash and adrenaline filled action. At the start of one of the chapters an Alfred Hitchcock quote is used: ‘A far-fetched story must be plausibly told, so your nonsense isn’t showing.’ Swierczynski normally excels at this, especially in Secret Dead Men and Expiration Date, but a little too often in Fun and Games there is slippage, especially with Hardie’s seemingly super-human qualities – the man will simply not die! – and the contrived set up of some scenes. That said, this is an enjoyable romp which works off a convincingly pitched premise – it would also make a great movie or TV series.

Review of Secret Dead Men by Duane Swierczynski (Point Blank, 2004)

Detective Del Farmer is obsessed with a Las Vegas crime syndicate he calls ‘The Association’ that were the cause of his death. Occupying the brain hotel of Agent Kevin Kennedy of the FBI he tracks down other victims and gathers their souls hoping they can tell him how to identify Association members. When the FBI suspect that Kennedy isn’t who he says he is, Farmer borrows the face of the Association’s latest murder victim, Brad Larsen, and sets off in pursuit of Larsen’s killers. After months of running and hiding, and in desperate need of funds, he ends up in Philadelphia taking a job to protect a rich, young woman. But something is about the job doesn’t feel right, the souls in his guest hotel are proving less than helpful, and someone keeps trying to kill him.

Secret Dead Men was Swierczynski’s debut novel. Its start is somewhat ponderous and hesitant, the prose a little flat, before picking up. My suspicion is that there was no easy way to open the story given the concept at its core. Swierczynski has one hell of an imagination and taking a novice and immersing her/him in the world as he’s conceived it, and to believe and go along with that world, takes a lot of skill. He manages to pull it off and after the first two dozen pages the story is zipping along. The jumping between bodies, false identities and double crossing demands a certain attention to the plot, but it’s well worth it. Secret Dead Men is a blast of a read and the most imaginatively conceived crime novel I’ve read in ages, possibly ever. The story twists and turns its way toward a dramatic conclusion. I tried to tell someone about it not long after finishing. The response was: ‘I know, I know, you’ve already told me – it’s a complete mindf**k’. That about sums it up – a complete head-wrecker of a novel. Wonderful stuff.

Review of Expiration Date by Duane Swierczynski (Minotaur Books, 2010)

Mickey Wade has lost his job as a journalist and unable to afford his upscale apartment in central Philadelphia he reluctantly moves into his Grandfather’s apartment in down at heel, Frankford. The neighbourhood is where Wade grew up, the place he was desperate to escape from, especially after his musician father died. With his grandfather in hospital, he has the place to himself, and flat broke he adopts a slacker diet – apples (fibre), peanuts (protein) and beer (grains) - listens to his father’s albums on an old turntable, and munches on some old Tylenol tablets that have some very strange consequences – they transport him back in time to the same apartment in the early 1970s. An apartment occupied by Dr DeMeo, who specialises in researching out of body experiences for the military; an apartment located directly above that of a single mother and her twelve year old son who will grow up to murder Wade’s father.

I was a little dubious of the sci-fi meets pulp crime fiction cross-over, but Swierczynski carries if off with aplomb. The Wheelman was one of my best reads of 2009 and I was delighted to spot Expiration Date in a bookshop in Reagan Airport in DC. The first two pages were enough to convince me to add weight to my carry-on bag, and moreover make me consider seriously putting the book I was presently reading to one side. The start is a big, juicy worm baited on a razor sharp hook; one of the best openings I’ve read in quite a while. The story is meticulously plotted and surprisingly credible given the time travel element, and the pacing is high tempo without being rushed. The characterisation is strong and the dialogue snappy and realistic. Unusually, the story is accompanied by some illustrations by Laurence Campbell, who does work for Marvel Comics, and they nicely complement the narrative. The telling went a tiny bit flat in places (I suspect because it was originally written as 12 equal length instalments that were to be serialised in the New York Times before the section was unfortunately dropped), but in all honesty there’s very little to dislike – this is top quality stuff. It’s increasingly difficult for an author to find their own voice and to come up with relatively novel premise - Swierczynski scores on both counts and, even though I’ve only read two of his books, he’s quickly become a favourite author.

Saturday Snippet: The Wheelman by Duane Swierczynski

The Wheelman was one of my top reads of 2009, a ferociously paced heist caper, with snappy dialogue and a gazillion twists. Here's a snippet where a former ex-cop quizzes the mute, anti-hero, Lennon.

'Okay, you're officially sprung. You can cut the shit and start talking.'

Oh Jesus. Here we go again.

'Look, you mick bastard, I know you can speak. I heard you. Right before you blew up my fucking house. You said something about arseholes. Which I really fucking love. The extra 'r' in the there. Why not just say asshole? No fucking idea.'

Lennon, of course, said nothing. He couldn't. Not that this cop would understand that. Just let him keep flapping his gums. It was more time to figure out a next move.

'Still the tough guy, eh? Look, really, cut it the fuck out. We need each other, otherwise you wouldn't even be here. Here's the deal. I'm taking us to my hotel room. Now don't get that look on your face. I'm not a fag. You're not my type, anyway. I like men who can moan when I fuck them up the ass. Most you could do is scratch the mattress. And frankly, that wouldn't do it for me. It's all about the audio.'

The white lane markers whizzed by at seventy miles an hour.

'Christ, your a humorless fuck.'

Lennon saw the city receding behind him and realized they were headed north. Or northeast. To the northeast. Where this ex-cop used to live.

Great stuff. My review is here.

Review of The Wheelman by Duane Swierczynski (St Martin’s Minotaur, 2005)

The heist was doomed from the start. Holden and Bling get caught in the doors to the bank and Lennon is forced to reverse the getaway car into vestibule to free them. Driving away he ploughs into a woman with a pram. Five minutes later they have dumped the car, leaving their haul inside, and swapped vehicles. Two minutes after that they are flip-flopping across the street having been rammed from the side, and are left for dead. Only Lennon isn’t prepared to give up on the loot so soon. In very short order he’s tangled up in a game of deals, counter-deals, and double crosses with the Russian mob, Italian mafia, and bent cops, all intent on revenge and the ill-gotten gains.

If I had some spare cash waiting for an investment opportunity I would have sought to buy the movie rights to The Wheelman within the first thirty pages of starting. The novel starts at a ferocious pace and never lets up, driven by snappy dialogue and taut action, with almost every scene containing a twist. In fact I can’t remember a story with so many twists and turns, with double, triple and more crosses, as every character seeks to get the better of the others in the hunt for the stolen money. In so doing, Swierczynski drags the principle character, Lennon, through the wringer, so that although he’s no saint you can’t put help root for the guy. The book is not without its faults – for example, a couple of the scenes lack credibility notably the first scene at the pipe – but ultimately it doesn’t matter. The Wheelman is a rollercoaster of a book. I loved it from first page to last. I need the next Swierczynski book right NOW!