Pelecanos continues his urban chronicles/thrillers with a tale of redemption
There comes a point in a writer’s career when reviewers start to look not just at the book on the “New Releases” table in the bookstore, but at the body of work as a whole. This sort of analysis usually happens when the number of potential books is dwarfed by the author’s previous output; upon recent death, when literary-leaning obituarists struggle to mine some instant legacy; or years if not decades later, when those in the throes of rediscovery commit their ecstatic cries to page and pixel.
For crime writers, such summary judgments focus either on specific characters — Chandler’s Marlowe, Christie’s Marple and Poirot, Highsmith’s Ripley — or indelible one-offs, like Eric Ambler’s “A Coffin for Dimitrios” and Dorothy B. Hughes’ “In a Lonely Place.” Characters inspire loyalty, passion and debate among readers; one-offs spur reexamination, depending on the time period of discovery.
George Pelecanos, however, is a different breed, because his work is less about specific characters and more about discrete periods.
Certainly, all his novels share certain attributes: chronicling urban Washington, D.C., as it was then and now, paying attention to the nuances of racial tensions and togetherness, examining masculinity against the backdrop of criminality, all set to musical soundtracks. (more…)




James Patterson
Odd Hours

