Jul 25 2009
More thoughts on Willeford
I finished another Charles Willeford novel. It was an accident really. I bought it Wednesday and didn't plan on reading it until next decade, but then I started it and... well, I couldn't stop.
It's the fourth "Hoke Moseley" novel, The Way We Die Now. (I've only read one other.) Hoke is a forty-somethingish Homicide detective who works cold cases. He's divorced and lives with his two teenage daughters and his former partner and her infant son. There's nothing going on between his former partner and he, but she serves as a mother/older sister for the daughters. Hoke's a bit of a mess, and much of the pleasure comes from Willeford sneaking up to the tough guy cop genre hero and pulling a knife out and puncturing his tires.
The plot goes like this: Heinous Crime is committed in first chapter. Call this plot A. Meanwhile, Hoke is enmeshed in subplots X, Y, Z. One is a cold case he is working on. One is a recent smoking ban in the police station, and one is a new neighbor who moves in across the street from his house. None of these subplots are related to Heinous Crime, but each slowly escalates. No mention is made of Heinous Crime for a hundred pages. Then Hoke is sent to investigate Heinous Crime. This investigation builds tension quickly and then resolves itself just as quickly with a bout of explosive violence. Then it's over. Subplots X, Y, and Z return, and each of their resolutions is in some way affected by the investigation of the Heinous Crime.
I don't know whether this is a bait and switch plot, or simply the classic show the fuse lit in the first chapter and wait for the explosion method. What's great is how much of the novel felt inconsequential but absolutely vital to the overall structure. You have to read it to see what I'm talking about.
The other great thing is how many times Willeford describes his characters eating. The most succinct piece of writing advice I ever got was to always, always, always show your characters eating. It's the best way of showing relationships between them, without too much contrivance.
This along with the Spaghetti Western secret of "Costume is character" keep churning around in my head as the greatest pieces of writing advice I've ever heard.
Of course, YMMV.
It's the fourth "Hoke Moseley" novel, The Way We Die Now. (I've only read one other.) Hoke is a forty-somethingish Homicide detective who works cold cases. He's divorced and lives with his two teenage daughters and his former partner and her infant son. There's nothing going on between his former partner and he, but she serves as a mother/older sister for the daughters. Hoke's a bit of a mess, and much of the pleasure comes from Willeford sneaking up to the tough guy cop genre hero and pulling a knife out and puncturing his tires.
The plot goes like this: Heinous Crime is committed in first chapter. Call this plot A. Meanwhile, Hoke is enmeshed in subplots X, Y, Z. One is a cold case he is working on. One is a recent smoking ban in the police station, and one is a new neighbor who moves in across the street from his house. None of these subplots are related to Heinous Crime, but each slowly escalates. No mention is made of Heinous Crime for a hundred pages. Then Hoke is sent to investigate Heinous Crime. This investigation builds tension quickly and then resolves itself just as quickly with a bout of explosive violence. Then it's over. Subplots X, Y, and Z return, and each of their resolutions is in some way affected by the investigation of the Heinous Crime.
I don't know whether this is a bait and switch plot, or simply the classic show the fuse lit in the first chapter and wait for the explosion method. What's great is how much of the novel felt inconsequential but absolutely vital to the overall structure. You have to read it to see what I'm talking about.
The other great thing is how many times Willeford describes his characters eating. The most succinct piece of writing advice I ever got was to always, always, always show your characters eating. It's the best way of showing relationships between them, without too much contrivance.
This along with the Spaghetti Western secret of "Costume is character" keep churning around in my head as the greatest pieces of writing advice I've ever heard.
Of course, YMMV.
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