Beginning in 1962, over the course of ten years, Mr. Westlake wrote
fifteen Parker novels, pen name Richard Stark, all hardboiled crime
fiction featuring Parker, the ultimate cool, calculating heister. And
all fifteen short novels follow the same four-step template: planning
the heist, assembling the crew, the heist itself, the escape.
But then it happened - Mr. Westlake broke the mold, changed things up, achieved a slam dunk with the publication of Butcher’s Moon in 1974.
How did he do it? Signature Richard Stark but with three major differences: firstly, at well over 300 pages, Butcher's Moon is double the length of his other Parker novels; secondly, Butcher's Moon
does not follow the aforementioned four-part heist structure, not even
close; and thirdly . . . well, let me hold off on reason number three
for now.
"Running toward the light, Parker fired twice over his
left shoulder, not caring whether he hit anything or not. It was just to
slow them down, keep the cops in the front of the store while he and
the others got out."
The above are the opening lines from the
novel's first chapter, fast-paced action at the tail end of a heist gone
bad - Parker and crew tripped a silent alarm not mentioned in the plan
they'd bought. The cops arrive on the scene and shoot a guy named
Michaelson who flops down and groans at the top of the cellar steps.
Parker orders Briggs, the explosive technician, to "close it up" meaning
blow up the cellar door and top steps, the steps where their partner
lays sprawled. Is Michaelson dead or just wounded? According to Parker,
it doesn't matter since "he's finished."
Minutes later, in the
getaway car, unlike one of the heisters who is furious the plan they
bought didn't mention a second alarm system, Parker immediately puts
this botched job behind him (things like a new silent alarm sometimes
happen) and, because he's on a bad luck streak, four botched heists in a
row, he immediately considers another way he can quickly get his hands
on much needed cash.
When asked what's next, Parker tells the
guys he left some money behind after a job a couple years ago and now's
the time to go back and get it. We quickly learn Parker's referring to
$73,000 and an amusement park on the edge of a Midwestern City.
Parker fans will hear a familiar ring: Richard Stark's 1971 Slayground,
a tale where Parker’s driver crashes the getaway car and Parker grabs
the sack of dough and makes a run for it, solo. There’s only one escape
route - an amusement park covered in ice and snow and surrounded by
water, Fun Island, currently shut down for the winter. Turns out, Parker
must go up against dozens of armed men under the command of Al Luzini,
the local mob boss.
Back on Butcher's Moon. Parker calls
Grofield, one of the crew from that armored car heist, and they both go
to Fun Island to get the dough Parker stashed away in a remote hiding
spot. However, there's bad news: the suitcase with the money is gone,
gone.
Parker says some local tough boys chased him to this part
of the amusement park and must have come back to look for the money they
knew he had with him. Grofield asks if he knows how to find any of
them. Parker tells him he knows the name of their boss - Lozini.
Thus
the novel's framework: Parker demands his money, all $73,000. Al Lozini
doesn't have a clue about any $73,000 but he recognizes Parker is
right: somebody in his organization must have gone back to Fun Island
and made off with the cash.
But, who? Not an easy question to
answer, especially since there's all sorts of political happenings
taking place in this small city of Tyler: an upcoming election and
(gulp) a power play within Luzini's gangster empire. The last thing the
local mob needs is two outsiders (Parker and his buddy) stirring up the
muck.
But stir the muck they do. So many players drawn into the
action. The body count begins to mount. Parker keeps demanding, "Give
me my money." The answer keeps coming back: "no." Then someone crosses
the line: he threatens Parker in a way most grotesque. Wrong move,
mister!
Nearly 200 pages filled with blood, grizzle and gore and Butcher's Moon
is about to take a dramatic shift. I purposely didn't cite any of those
grisly, bloody specifics so as not to spoil but as reviewer I'm obliged
to address what happens in Chapter Thirty-Five.
Oh, yes, that
pivotal chapter. Here's the skinny: the grotesque threat enrages Parker,
unleashes Parker's inner tiger, lets loose Parker's inner wolf. Not
only does Parker want his money (as he does in all Richard Stark
novels), Parker now wants more, he wants Grofield (currently a prisoner
held by the mob) and Parker wants blood - he wants all those mob
bastards dead. Parker phones twenty-five men. By nightfall, eleven tell
Parker they're in.
It's war! All eleven travel to Tyler, all
eleven take a seat in the apartment serving as Parker's home base. All
eleven examine the plan Parker outlines - the multiple heists and the
final attack.
But the key question remains: What's with the
change in Parker? Why does Parker now want more than just his money?
Even one of the heisters confronts Parker, remarking,"That's not like
you."
Parker fans have been debating this very question ever since Butcher's Moon
first hit the bookracks. Has Parker really changed or has Parker simply
expanded what it means to be Parker? For each reader to decide.
The
novel's last fifty pages, the climatic showdown between forty armed
mobsters and Parker's eleven surely counts as among the most thrilling,
electrifying, spine-tingling episodes in all crime fiction. The
gangsters think they'll win with ease based on sheer numbers - but
little do they know who they're up against.
Oh, baby, if those
Tyler thugs only knew. Parker has assembled a dream team of combatants,
men with expertise ranging from electronics to explosives and everything
in between. To use a sports analogy, like a local team of semipros
taking the field against Manchester United.
I've said enough.
Crime fiction too good to be true. No wonder John Banville proclaimed,
"We admire Parker to our shame, taking a guilty pleasure in his fearless
fearsomeness. This is existential man at his furthest extremity,
confronting a world that is even more wicked and treacherous than he
is."
American author Donald E. Westlake, 1933-2008
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