Read Online In Pursuit of Spenser by Otto Penzler - Free Book Online
Authors: Otto Penzler
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this piece, and would have passed if I felt I could. But if my feelings for the work are mixed, those for the man are not. I was in fact honored to be invited to this particular clambake, and simply could not say no. Both Bob and the singular voice we know as Spenser will be missed.
SPENSER’S CODE OF HUMOR
| PARNELL HALL |
THERE’S NOTHING UNIQUE about a wisecracking private investigator. Smart-mouthed PIs are a dime a dozen. Every private eye writer in the last thirty years has one—and for good reason. They’ve all read the Spenser novels, and they’ve molded their private eyes after him. I know I did. When I started my first Stanley Hastings novel, back in the mid-80s, I wanted a private eye that talked like Spenser. Never mind that my private eye was an ordinary family man who never had fist fights or car chases, and didn’t even carry a gun. (I was working as a PI at the time, chasing ambulances for a negligence lawyer, and I modeled the character after myself.) If my PI could talk like Spenser, I was convinced he’d be fun to read.
Other writers felt the same. And so a whole generation of clever PIs was born. Many were closer to Spenser than mine, being tough and athletic and jogging and having dangerous sidekicks like Hawk. But all, to the best of their authors’ abilities, talked like Spenser.
And yet Spenser stands out.
It is not just that he is better at it, though he is. His remarks are rooted in his personality. Spenser is a knight in shining armor, a do-gooder, a man who lives by a code of honor, with values and standards and principles. His jests humanize him, mask his heroism, diffuse the macho image that is rightfully his. Without humor, he would appear a self-righteous prig, adhering to a strict moral code. With it, he is a jaunty, cocky son of a bitch, constantly ridiculing himself while he ridicules others.
And he is just so damn good at it.
Whatever the situation, Spenser is as quick with a quip as he is with his fists. He hits the ground running in The Godwulf Manuscript with his description of a blond co-ed: “She was wearing something in purple suede that was too short for a skirt and too long for a belt.”
And he doesn’t let up, asking Lieutenant Martin Quirk, who tries to intimidate him, “Can I feel your muscle?”
Or asking mob boss Joe Broz, “Do you always dress in blue and white . . . or do you have your office redone to match your clothes every day?”
And he tackles everything from sex to politics to religion, always with the same irreverent attitude.
In The Widening Gyre , he is asked to bodyguard a senatorial candidate who has been getting death threats. The candidate questions his religious beliefs: “Do you believe in almighty God?”
Spenser answers, “Why? Does he want to hire me?” As the candidate reacts in shock, Spenser, always the feminist, adds: “Or she.”
It’s not only the attitude and circumstances that characterize Spenser’s wit. It’s also his ability to convey volumes with just a few words. When Spenser meets the radical feminist with whom he clashes in Looking for Rachel Wallace , her editor, desperately trying to placate her, says Spenser has read her book. Rachel asks him what he thought of it.
He answers, “I think you are rehashing Simone de Beauvoir.”
Notice the delicious triple-thrust of the remark. First, he fails to pay her a compliment, which is clearly what she expected. Second, he demonstrates a knowledge of feminism that Rachel, in her prejudice, assumed he would not have, plus the fact he was aware of that assumption. And, third, he offers the opinion that she is merely a second-rate imitation of other, genuinely important feminists.
That’s a hell of a lot to pack into one short sentence. But Spenser does it with ease.
Rachel, fighting back, proceeds to grill him on his knowledge of Simone de Beauvoir, perhaps to make sure he is not quoting something he read in the press release. Spenser passes the test while
SPENSER’S CODE OF HUMOR
| PARNELL HALL |
THERE’S NOTHING UNIQUE about a wisecracking private investigator. Smart-mouthed PIs are a dime a dozen. Every private eye writer in the last thirty years has one—and for good reason. They’ve all read the Spenser novels, and they’ve molded their private eyes after him. I know I did. When I started my first Stanley Hastings novel, back in the mid-80s, I wanted a private eye that talked like Spenser. Never mind that my private eye was an ordinary family man who never had fist fights or car chases, and didn’t even carry a gun. (I was working as a PI at the time, chasing ambulances for a negligence lawyer, and I modeled the character after myself.) If my PI could talk like Spenser, I was convinced he’d be fun to read.
Other writers felt the same. And so a whole generation of clever PIs was born. Many were closer to Spenser than mine, being tough and athletic and jogging and having dangerous sidekicks like Hawk. But all, to the best of their authors’ abilities, talked like Spenser.
And yet Spenser stands out.
It is not just that he is better at it, though he is. His remarks are rooted in his personality. Spenser is a knight in shining armor, a do-gooder, a man who lives by a code of honor, with values and standards and principles. His jests humanize him, mask his heroism, diffuse the macho image that is rightfully his. Without humor, he would appear a self-righteous prig, adhering to a strict moral code. With it, he is a jaunty, cocky son of a bitch, constantly ridiculing himself while he ridicules others.
And he is just so damn good at it.
Whatever the situation, Spenser is as quick with a quip as he is with his fists. He hits the ground running in The Godwulf Manuscript with his description of a blond co-ed: “She was wearing something in purple suede that was too short for a skirt and too long for a belt.”
And he doesn’t let up, asking Lieutenant Martin Quirk, who tries to intimidate him, “Can I feel your muscle?”
Or asking mob boss Joe Broz, “Do you always dress in blue and white . . . or do you have your office redone to match your clothes every day?”
And he tackles everything from sex to politics to religion, always with the same irreverent attitude.
In The Widening Gyre , he is asked to bodyguard a senatorial candidate who has been getting death threats. The candidate questions his religious beliefs: “Do you believe in almighty God?”
Spenser answers, “Why? Does he want to hire me?” As the candidate reacts in shock, Spenser, always the feminist, adds: “Or she.”
It’s not only the attitude and circumstances that characterize Spenser’s wit. It’s also his ability to convey volumes with just a few words. When Spenser meets the radical feminist with whom he clashes in Looking for Rachel Wallace , her editor, desperately trying to placate her, says Spenser has read her book. Rachel asks him what he thought of it.
He answers, “I think you are rehashing Simone de Beauvoir.”
Notice the delicious triple-thrust of the remark. First, he fails to pay her a compliment, which is clearly what she expected. Second, he demonstrates a knowledge of feminism that Rachel, in her prejudice, assumed he would not have, plus the fact he was aware of that assumption. And, third, he offers the opinion that she is merely a second-rate imitation of other, genuinely important feminists.
That’s a hell of a lot to pack into one short sentence. But Spenser does it with ease.
Rachel, fighting back, proceeds to grill him on his knowledge of Simone de Beauvoir, perhaps to make sure he is not quoting something he read in the press release. Spenser passes the test while
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