I took a bite of the bagel and sipped at my coffee. He must have seen my arm move. The station house wasnt going at full throttle, but the few left for roll call were the tough apples. The book, in which Hammer pursues a murderous narcotics ring led by a curvaceous female psychiatrist, went on to sell more than 1 million copies. His 1962 Mike Hammar novel, The Girl Hunters, was made into a film that starred Mickey Spillane as Mike Hammer, whose script was co-written by Mickey. The doctors expression never changed, the eyes behind the lenses unblinking. There were really some fun characters, though, from the main character, Stang, to the old lady that witnesses everything on the Street, to the mobster turned terrorist lackey, even the old cops, all some great characters in a fun version of New York that had this weird old time vibe that was entertaining, but felt just enough off to throw me out of the story at times.
Then there was what almost felt like a side plot, but turned out to be the main story that sorta kinda involved Middle Eastern terrorists, but in such a generic way as to not really seems real. He died before completing it, a job that fell to Max Allan Collins. It was prepared for publishing by Max Allen Collins and first hit the shelves in 2007. It's not as visceral and tough as the best of Spillane's work, but still an entertaining read of 1950s men in today's world. Beyond that, as a mystery story, it felt too simple right from the beginning I don't like it when I've solved the clues two chapters in advance of the detective only to get more and more ridiculous with each twist and turn.
Love conquers all in a slightly convoluted plot involving stolen nuclear material, long dead mobsters, al-Qaeda and the bulldozing of old neighborhoods on Manhattan's West-Side. Prepared for publication after Spillane died. The latest, and not the last, is Dead Street published by Hard Case Crime, the whodunit paperback publisher with those cool old school pulp fiction covers. She wouldnt go to court to identify the shooter. It wasnt a new sensation at all. A posthumous Spillane novel finished by novelist and Spillane friend Max Allen Collins. It was worth plunking down my money to see one of the legends in action one last time.
Now I've read my first Mickey Spillane. And the doctor was reading me. It's so 'pulp fiction' looking thanks to artist Arthur Suydam. There are times when it what you are reading may seem redundant. The old waitress came over, cleaned up what I had left of my bagel and refilled my coffee cup. I wanted to love it, since this was Mickey Spillane's swan song and because of his status as one of the founding fathers of the genre. His specialty was tight-fisted, sadistic revenge stories, often featuring his alcoholic gumshoe Mike Hammer and a cast of evildoers who launder money or spout the Communist Party line.
When the waitress came by again, I waved her off. He grinned and the eyes behind the specs were alert and blue. But her neighbors know her special needs, and those needs are surprisingly small. Cell phones in character's hands seemed a little out of place to me. In the last, a rapidly aging Hammer comes out of a gunshot-induced coma, then tracks down a friend's murderer and billions in mob loot. Spillane died July 17, 2006, and this book which was almost completed, was published in 2007.
As the tension builds, all the clues are there to figure out what's going on. His specialty was tight-fisted, sadistic revenge stories, often featuring his alcoholic gumshoe Mike Hammer and a cast of evildoers who launder money or spout the Communist Party line. The llustratation of his hero works very well because there is a past incident and a past love, which both have their interwoven effects on the present. It's good but not great---not as visceral or as immediate as I, the Jury or Kiss Me Deadly. The hero of the piece spends much of the start gushing over his lost love that he's been re-united with, and the storyline is soapy melodrama. I had gone into the Academy straight out of the Marine Corps back in 75, so I still had some good years ahead.
Mickey Spillane died at the age of 88 in 2006. When it snowed she stayed inside, only sliding the sash up if she heard gunshots. Now they got the Jersey troops and the firemen in for neighbors. His reactionary politics rub me the wrong way, and the sexism in his novels often strikes me as even harsher than can be explained away by the times. He was staring back at me now.
The whole lost girlfrie This one was a little weird. I'm guessing Spillane didn't mention this to his good friend Collins or his wife Jane. He died before completing it, a job that fell to Max Allan Collins. If this was a pathetic jokester he was about to die at this last punch line. Well, I have mixed feelings on this one. Not after his fathers generosityand his own. There are so many false notes in Dead Street that an explication of them would be longer than the novel itself.
This was the last novel that Spillane completed before his death in 2006. I liked the way Spillane wrote Stang, even if it did seem dated. A couple of those slobs were still wearing bandages. Of all the big names in crime fiction, Spillane is the one I've read the least. Set fifty feet back from the corner, so there would be ample curb space for a few squad cars, was the timeworn station house. So one would expect Spillane intended to involve the veterinarian in the original kidnapping and that involvement would reveal itself in the final chapter's. Jack Stang is a retired police captain who sees his old street dying.