Robert Parker and Beyond

 

If you’ve followed this blog, you know I’m a fan of the late Robert B. Parker (1932-2010). He wrote 40 novels featuring wisecracking, hard-punching Spenser, a PI based in Boston who bends the rules. Parker also wrote nine Jesse Stone mysteries, six featuring female detective Sunny Randall, plus Westerns and TV scripts. Parker became a franchise, so it’s not surprising that others stepped in to (ahem!) ghost write more books as “Robert Parker’s….” Here are three novels for comparison, the first written by Parker himself. 

 

Note: Off-center views will not public on Friday to allow us to recover from pumpkin pie!

 

 Hugger Mugger (2000) is unusual in that it’s not set anywhere near Boston, doesn’t involve his dodgy friend/associate Hawk, and barely includes Susan Silverman, his longtime squeeze.

 

Spenser is hired by humor-challenged Walter Clive and Penny, his lovely youngest daughter, to come to Lamarr, Georgia, and hang out at Three Fillies Stables to protect the thoroughbred horse of the book’s title. It’s an odd gig, as Clive already has Southern Security on the job and its head, Jon Delroy, doesn’t want Spenser poking about. But two horses have already been shot and Walter’s word rules. The extended Clive family, beyond the flirty Penny, is no treat. Older daughter SueSue is married to Poole (“Pud”), a drunken lout, and “Stonie” to Cord, who harbors a secret. There’s also Walter’s estranged wife Polly living as a hippie in the Bay Area, and Dolly, his longtime paramour.

 

What’s a snarky Bostonian doing in Georgia? Only Becker, a black sheriff; Tedy Sapp, the bouncer at a gar bar; and Polly Brown, a local madam, speak Spenser’s language. Spenser is fired when a key figure dies, and is later rehired, though he’s officially banned from Three Fillies–not that Spenser cares about such things. He is tasked with solving a murder, getting to the bottom of the horse shootings, making sense of a dead man’s will, and wading through toxic Clive waters.

 

Assessment: This is a good, but not great, Spenser novel. It has all the elements but it’s not too hard to finger who is behind the hullabaloo. It might have worked better in a Yankee location that didn’t pretend to be charming. ★★★

 

 

 

Robert B. Parker’s Little White Lies (2017) was penned by Ace Atkins who was chosen by Parker’s estate to continue the Spenser series. Atkins has 15 novels in his own right–many classified as Southern noir–and has written ten more Spensers. He doesn’t mess with Spenser’s snark, his fondness for donuts, or his love for Susan, but he does allow him to age. Spenser is now as likely to pass up a fight as willingly engage. His client is Connie Kelly, who fell in love with the handsome but older M. Brooks Welles, a Harvard grad, military analyst, and former CIA agent. Or so he says. After “investing” $300,000 of Connie’s money he takes off, leaving her heart and money in the lurch. She wants the first back and is torn about the latter. Spenser runs into a dead end when he traces the cash to Johnny Gredoni, a gun dealer near Boston. Gredoni’s murder stops the investigation.

Not really! Spenser sets out to see how much of Welles’ backstory is true. About as much as the pastor he’s pretending to be in Georgia. Spenser will eventually speak with the too-sincere-to-be-true Dr. Ridgeway of the Greater Faith Ministry of Georgia. Is a Christian holy war brewing? Who is Brother Bliss? Is Welles a link or the pivot? Does Spenser need Welles? Spenser’s FBI sources know some of what’s going on but there are puzzle pieces missing. Hawk and Tedy Sapp provide some muscle in an attempted double cross that Spenser knows is coming. And what about Connie?

 

Assessment: Atkins’ plot is more complex than many of Parker’s, hence the central mystery is better, though the conman preying on women angle was used in The Professional. Atkins does Spenser well, though he blunts his cockiness. ★★★★

 

 

 

Mike Lupica is a sportswriter, though he has fiction books to his credit. He was chosen to write more Jesse Stone novels. Thus far, Robert B. Parker’s Fool’s Paradise (2020) is the only one. Stone is the chief of police of Paradise, Massachusetts, probably a mashup of Marblehead and Newburyport. Jesse’s also a recovering alcoholic. There’s trouble in Paradise when a man he met briefly at an AA meeting is murdered. No one knows who he is or why he took a long taxi ride to be dropped off in front of Lily Crain’s mansion. Nor do Stone or underlings Molly Crane and Suitcase Simpson know who grabbed Molly or took potshots at Suitcase. Was it some kids who Jesse busted years ago? How are the Cains involved?

 

Assessment: It kept my interest, though I admit that the Jesse Stone novels never really floated my boat. Stone is too downbeat for me and the series fixates too much on the desire to drink, his sullen moods, attending AA, and yearning for Sunny, his on-and-off lover. I know, though, that many readers like the damaged Jesse. ★★★

November 2024 Music Roundup: Julian Taylor, Banning Eyre, Dekel, FBR, Srikanth, Toc de Crida

 

I’m running out of superlatives for the amazing West Indian/Mohawk/Canadian performer Julian Taylor, he of the silky smooth but powerful voice and incisive pen. If you’ve not heard Pathways, by all means correct that oversight. That song alone is worth the sticker price. It’s a gentle and poignant look at moving through life. Who can dispute advice such as … be gentle, be kind be grateful, take time, remember we’re in this together/let’s just be who we are, follow our hearts, and dream that love is forever. Yeah, he’s that kind of performer–the sort who can make you weep, feel wistful, and occasionally sad or mad. “Love Letters” is a sweet waltz tempo song, but he even induce calmness by asking Do we even know what we’re doing to ourselves. “Ain’t Life Strange” implores us to look deep into ourselves, especially when we feel “numb.” Taylor even gives us a bit of achy breaky country in “Running Away,” but at least it’s more prairie country than another overly processed Nashville song. Once again Julian Taylor is my artist of the month.

 

 

Banning Eyre and I share history in that we both once wrote for Global Music Magazine and we both play guitar. That’s about where the similarities end, as Eyre in an amazing guitarist and I astound people with my ineptitude. Eyre’s Bare Songs 1 is a 14-track delight that highlights his bright and precise picking. It ranges from the dreamy “Fifteen Rounds and No Decision” to the Galician-meets-Ukraine “Portal 7 " to the rain-like “Kaku Hiva” to “Djelimady,” the latter reminiscent of Eyre’s forays into Afro Pop. This is a perfect album for serious listening or tasteful background music.

 

     

 

Dekel is an Israeli singer and composer. Her new record Starlings showcases many things, including her love of nature. The title track is a haunting song with near drone-like cello setting the beat. Her voice and the pacing are pop-like, but there is much more depth and, yes, it’s partly about the humble little bird, but listen and you’ll hear that the starlings are witnesses. “So Much Logic” has accordion and clarinet. Although the song dances, the vocal is darker, and it pops like a cross between klezmer and something from Zorba the Greek. “Meet Me Halfway” is klezmer with a hip hop beat and I’ll leave it to you determine if the song is religious or the starting point for negotiating a relationship. On “Sing With MeSisters,” Dekel sings in deeper, more mature tones. It's an unusual song in that it toggles between introspective and anthemic. Put directly, Dekel is hard to pigeonhole. She has a habit of never being quite what you think.

 

 

Tim Hunter (acoustic guitar, vocal, harmonica) and Malarie McConaha (electric guitar, vocals) of FBR describe themselves as “two hippies,” but their music within a band of six is more rock, blues, and country. If you’re wondering about the name, it’s shorthand for Leonard Cohen’s song “Famous Blue Raincoat.” I suppose FBR sometimes sings about dark subjects, but their vibe on Ghost is not much like Cohen’s. “Before I Drown” is wrapped in an electric mix that gets progressively bigger to build McConaha’s desperation as she tells of a doomed relationship marked by fighting and booze. “Rain On” has a big rock sound as well with McConaha muscular vocals and splash of blistering guitar. By contrast, “Bottle of Blues” is country blues with a roadhouse vibe. Another departure is “Skies of Donegal Blues,” but don’t expect an Irish tune; it’s more of a big-voiced wailer. And why not? McConaha can deliver.

 

Short Reviews:

 

 

 

 

If you’d like to sample music from South India, try Jyotsna Srikanth and her album Carnatic Nomad. Carnatic music is considered “classical music” in India, a term that bears little resemblance to Western connotations. It refers to its complexity and its place in tradition. Srikanth, who now lives in Britain, is grounded in Carnatic violin and vocals. Other instruments include various hand percussion, lutes, and the stringed tambura that often acts as a drone. Try “Manasa Sancharare” to appreciate her string prowess and “Tiruppugal” for something a bit livelier.

 

 

 

The island of Mallorca lies off the eastern coast of Spain and north of Algeria in the Balearic Sea. The six-piece trad band Toc de Crida features lightly modernized tunes from North Africa, Catalonia, and Valencia, with some departures across the Atlantic. Their self-named album is joyous. No matter where they land the music sounds like you’ve stumbled upon a celebration and have just discovered an amazing group you never knew existed. Try these two tracks.: "Jota de Son Pudol" and "Can Bou." FYI, a jota is a Spanish dance and if you listen to other tracks and hear unusual bagpipes, it’s the xeremia, an odd-looking instrument that’s like a watermelon-shaped sheep’s bladder with attached pipes.

 

 

A xeremia

 

 

Rob Weir