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rushthatspeaks) wrote2010-08-30 02:55 pm
rushthatspeaks) wrote2010-08-30 02:55 pm
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What's The Worst That Could Happen?, Donald Westlake (365 Books, Day 2)
I'd vaguely heard of Donald Westlake's Dortmunder novels on several occasions, as they would I think qualify for a place on a list of non-science-fiction-fantasy things that people in sff fandom tend to enjoy. kate_nepveu was kind enough to suggest a starting point, in What's The Worst That Could Happen?, which also happened to be the only one the library had.
Dortmunder is a professional burglar, and the tone of the series is caper/suspense/humor. Not a genre I've read widely in, so I'm not in much position to say whether this book, or Westlake in general, fit into or are subverting any common tropes.
Which means-- I'm sorry, Westlake fans-- that I disliked this book entirely on its own account.
It's not a bad book. In fact, it's very well done. The language is inventive and interesting, the plot ticks along correctly, and a large cast are kept mostly distinctive except at the climax, where I completely lost track of the logistics, although it didn't really matter. The characters are mostly a fun cross between people one might actually run into and the noir stereotype of such characters; it's as though the camera has a filter on it which makes everybody look a little bit Damon Runyon. I both believed in and was invested in a romance between two of the cast.
The problems I had were two-fold and related: firstly, I could tell that the book was meant to be funny, but I couldn't actually figure out how or why it might be funny. Nothing in it struck me as remotely humorous, except one paragraph about a spurious Broadway musical. Secondly, and probably the reason for firstly: not only did I find Dortmunder, the protagonist, the most boring person in the book, I also found him killingly depressing and kept wishing he would go the hell away. Write a book about Andy Kelp, the second lead, and I'm right there with you (is there one?), but Dortmunder, oh my god, no.
He's a professional thief, and he's very competent at it, but he seems to consider nothing else in the world (except possibly his girlfriend) worth his time, attention, or effort. He hates technology, does not register historical references, resents ninety percent of the population of the planet, does not seem interested in travel except as a means to an end, and, we are told, when he has enough cash to survive literally stays home and does nothing all day. He does not appear to enjoy thievery-- it's his skill set. He looks down on people who are interested in things he does not enjoy, which as far as I could tell from this book is everything except alcohol. We know from the book's description of thieving as a business that it is hard and dangerous work, and that he gets ten percent of the value of the things he takes, if that. When he does have money, he doesn't seem to enjoy that either. The only motivation we get out of him in this book is an annoyed and furious desire for revenge. Which, to be fair, does drive the plot.
It is rather distracting in a book that is set up as a light caper and trying to be funny to be continuously wondering a) whether the protagonist is actually secretly suicidally depressed and b) if not, why not, because looking at his life and behavior and general attitude it seems only the logical reaction. I never figured out why he bothers to get out of bed in the morning. As far as I can tell, even he would tell you that there is no redeeming value in his life or himself.
The thing is, I am fine reading a book about a protagonist of that sort, except that I'm not sure this book knew it had one. I suspect Dormunder of being modeled on the classic noir P.I., only de-angstified somewhat and from the other side of the law. He certainly doesn't share the DNA of Arsène Lupin. The thing is, the life circumstances of a noir P.I. make it obvious why he is so angst-ridden, but Dortmunder's do not make it clear why he is not happy. (If he is happy, I would have liked that mentioned. People actually go around observing things like 'an attitude of hangdog despair shrouds him'.) This gap in being able to understand what the hell is going on with him leaves him pretty much a total cipher.
And it breaks the book for me. It doesn't work as light comedy. It doesn't work as black comedy, either, because everything that isn't Dortmunder isn't quite cynical enough. The book separates into the protagonist and everything else, and enjoying the rest okay doesn't make up for the split.
It could just be me. I mean, I also find Dashiell Hammett's The Thin Man one of the most depressing novels ever written; I couldn't figure out why anybody bothered getting out of bed in the morning in that one, but a lot of people insist that it is charming and witty, which it is, if you can duck the gaping existential void at its heart. This book wasn't like that, just at war with itself.
It could also be that Dortmunder is explained somewhere else in the series sufficiently to make this book work, but I didn't like this enough to want to try. Consensus seems to be that this one is Westlake's best, which does not make the others an appealing prospect, really.
kate_nepveu was kind enough to suggest a starting point, in What's The Worst That Could Happen?, which also happened to be the only one the library had.Dortmunder is a professional burglar, and the tone of the series is caper/suspense/humor. Not a genre I've read widely in, so I'm not in much position to say whether this book, or Westlake in general, fit into or are subverting any common tropes.
Which means-- I'm sorry, Westlake fans-- that I disliked this book entirely on its own account.
It's not a bad book. In fact, it's very well done. The language is inventive and interesting, the plot ticks along correctly, and a large cast are kept mostly distinctive except at the climax, where I completely lost track of the logistics, although it didn't really matter. The characters are mostly a fun cross between people one might actually run into and the noir stereotype of such characters; it's as though the camera has a filter on it which makes everybody look a little bit Damon Runyon. I both believed in and was invested in a romance between two of the cast.
The problems I had were two-fold and related: firstly, I could tell that the book was meant to be funny, but I couldn't actually figure out how or why it might be funny. Nothing in it struck me as remotely humorous, except one paragraph about a spurious Broadway musical. Secondly, and probably the reason for firstly: not only did I find Dortmunder, the protagonist, the most boring person in the book, I also found him killingly depressing and kept wishing he would go the hell away. Write a book about Andy Kelp, the second lead, and I'm right there with you (is there one?), but Dortmunder, oh my god, no.
He's a professional thief, and he's very competent at it, but he seems to consider nothing else in the world (except possibly his girlfriend) worth his time, attention, or effort. He hates technology, does not register historical references, resents ninety percent of the population of the planet, does not seem interested in travel except as a means to an end, and, we are told, when he has enough cash to survive literally stays home and does nothing all day. He does not appear to enjoy thievery-- it's his skill set. He looks down on people who are interested in things he does not enjoy, which as far as I could tell from this book is everything except alcohol. We know from the book's description of thieving as a business that it is hard and dangerous work, and that he gets ten percent of the value of the things he takes, if that. When he does have money, he doesn't seem to enjoy that either. The only motivation we get out of him in this book is an annoyed and furious desire for revenge. Which, to be fair, does drive the plot.
It is rather distracting in a book that is set up as a light caper and trying to be funny to be continuously wondering a) whether the protagonist is actually secretly suicidally depressed and b) if not, why not, because looking at his life and behavior and general attitude it seems only the logical reaction. I never figured out why he bothers to get out of bed in the morning. As far as I can tell, even he would tell you that there is no redeeming value in his life or himself.
The thing is, I am fine reading a book about a protagonist of that sort, except that I'm not sure this book knew it had one. I suspect Dormunder of being modeled on the classic noir P.I., only de-angstified somewhat and from the other side of the law. He certainly doesn't share the DNA of Arsène Lupin. The thing is, the life circumstances of a noir P.I. make it obvious why he is so angst-ridden, but Dortmunder's do not make it clear why he is not happy. (If he is happy, I would have liked that mentioned. People actually go around observing things like 'an attitude of hangdog despair shrouds him'.) This gap in being able to understand what the hell is going on with him leaves him pretty much a total cipher.
And it breaks the book for me. It doesn't work as light comedy. It doesn't work as black comedy, either, because everything that isn't Dortmunder isn't quite cynical enough. The book separates into the protagonist and everything else, and enjoying the rest okay doesn't make up for the split.
It could just be me. I mean, I also find Dashiell Hammett's The Thin Man one of the most depressing novels ever written; I couldn't figure out why anybody bothered getting out of bed in the morning in that one, but a lot of people insist that it is charming and witty, which it is, if you can duck the gaping existential void at its heart. This book wasn't like that, just at war with itself.
It could also be that Dortmunder is explained somewhere else in the series sufficiently to make this book work, but I didn't like this enough to want to try. Consensus seems to be that this one is Westlake's best, which does not make the others an appealing prospect, really.