Serial Killers and Lew Archer
Published November 06, 2003
Perhaps there is truth in this, but I'm not quite certain. I mean, if you contrast Archer with say, Andrew Vachss' Burke (who also spends most of his time dealing with crimes against children), you can see that it isn't enough to just blame the serial killers. Vachss isn't afraid to stare into the abyss or the hellish torments often inflicted upon the young. Many critics have also heaped considerable praise upon James Lee Burke's novels. In his stories of Dave Robicheaux, the Louisiana cop whom Amazon.com calls "easily one of the most complex and compelling protagonists in mystery fiction," Burke often weaves intricate tales of multi-generational crime and deceit. Robicheaux is usually called upon to piece together how the past impacts the present, or how the sins of the fathers can descend upon the sons. So can the decline in Macdonald's reputation really be that everyone wants to blame everything on "outside maleveolence" and refuses to internalize the emotional examination?
Perhaps part of it is that Marlowe was first, and its always best to be first. In that regard, Archer sort of drifts into Marlowe's shadows as just another tough guy P.I. Though they were obviously "men of the world," both Marlowe and Archer were somewhat detached from the problems surrounding them. The modern protagonist is far more emotionally burdened than Archer, often even emotionally broken. And, like Dave Robicheaux, they're often intimately involved in the mystery they encounter.
I suppose one might point to Robert B. Parker's Spenser as an exception to this notion, but Spenser exists in a time bubble, one in which he and his beloved Susan are always say, 50-something (or thereabouts). When Spenser first appeared back in the early 1970s, he was about 40; add thirty years to that and you'll begin to wonder how he and Hawk still manage to bag the bad guys and the ladies. In general, however, I think that the modern detective often battles many internal problems, be they drugs, depression, alcohol, or a whole host of other things. They may cling to some sort of Chandleresque code of honor, but they are themselves a reflection of the shattered society around them. For some reason Phillip Marlowe can still survive in this world. I'm not so sure Lew Archer can.
- Serial Killers and Lew Archer
- Published: November 06, 2003
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- Section: Books
- Filed Under: Books: Crime, Books: Mystery
- Writer: W.E. Wallo
- W.E. Wallo's BC Writer page
- W.E. Wallo's personal site
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Great thoughts on Ross Macdonald, whose The Galton Case and The Freeze, among others, are masterpieces of their genre. One of the things I love about Macdonald is that he's so compelling, with some turn of events every page, sometimes every half-page.
Another point of interest, worth noting given the last few months: Macdonald, whose real name was Ken Millar, was an idol of Warren Zevon's, as well as one of several pals who helped Zevon kick the bottle. You can read the whole tale here.
Zevon recalls their meeting:
"Jesus, I remember that day well," Zevon says. "I was in such terrible shape. I don't think I've ever felt worse. Ken said a lot of things to me that nobody had ever said before. 'We writers are overcompensated in this society' he told me. 'In this house, at your age, you feel guilty.' We both got a laugh over our religious backgrounds. And I found myself telling him things that I'd never told anybody. I said I was disillusioned because I thought writing had to be fun. He just looked at me and smiled. I told him I drank to force the fun, to get rid of the anxiety and guilt I'd had all my life. For the first time, everything made a crazy kind of sense to me. Since what I felt guilty about was also destroying me, crime and punishment were taking place simultaneously, so I must have thought I didn't have anything to worry about. If somebody reprimanded me for my conduct, I could tell them, 'Don't fret. I know I'm being bad, but I'm punishing myself for it. I'm taking care of it.'
"The scariest part about alcoholism -- about any addiction, for that matter -- is that you credit the booze for all your accomplishments. You could be dying from drink and unable to move anything but one finger, yet still be convinced that, without another shot, that finger was going to stop, too. Ken Millar made me realize that I wrote my songs despite the fact that I was a drunk, not because of it."
"What did you think when you opened the door and saw him there?" I ask.
"It was like a dream come true," Warren Zevon says. "At the lowest point in my life, the doorbell rang. And there, quite literally, was Lew Archer, on a compassionate mission, come to save my life."
Zevon's masterful LP, Bad Luck Streak in Dancing School, is dedicated to Ken Millar.