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citizen_noir's review against another edition
4.0
As most of my noir friends know, I’m a huge fan of the Matthew Scudder mystery series by Lawrence Block. The series is up to something like 18 books. I’ve not only read every one, I’ve also collected signed first editions of each one. From Block’s effortless writing and plotting, to the incredible character of Scudder (who changes in age, ability, and levels of alcoholism throughout the years), I highly and wholeheartedly recommend this series to anyone who will listen.
This graphic novel by John K. Snyder III is an excellent adaptation of Block’s fifth - and in many ways, most important- Scudder novel, EIGHT MILLION WAYS TO DIE. As Block writes in a foreword of the graphic novel, the book was the longest of the series at the time because it really told three stories: Scudder’s investigation of the murder of Kim Dakkinen; the perilous nature of life in New York City; and Scudder’s struggle to come to terms with his alcoholism.
Ex-cop private eyes, random violence to prostitutes, alcohol abuse, these are some of the most tired and overused cliches of the mystery genre, but in the hands of a grandmaster like Block, the transformation that Scudder experiences through the series - and especially in this book - is sensational. I was pleased with the way Snyder adapted the novel, maintaining the key transformations of Scudder, while depicting the City as a bleak character in and of itself.
This book will appeal to everyone from die hard Scudder followers to fans of noir graphic novels. Perhaps my only quibble is with a few grammatical errors and misspellings in the lettering that will hopefully get fixed in later editions.
My copy of this book is signed by both Block and Snyder, and I’m happy to report that Block just recently announced that he has wrapped up a new Scudder. I can hardly wait.
This graphic novel by John K. Snyder III is an excellent adaptation of Block’s fifth - and in many ways, most important- Scudder novel, EIGHT MILLION WAYS TO DIE. As Block writes in a foreword of the graphic novel, the book was the longest of the series at the time because it really told three stories: Scudder’s investigation of the murder of Kim Dakkinen; the perilous nature of life in New York City; and Scudder’s struggle to come to terms with his alcoholism.
Ex-cop private eyes, random violence to prostitutes, alcohol abuse, these are some of the most tired and overused cliches of the mystery genre, but in the hands of a grandmaster like Block, the transformation that Scudder experiences through the series - and especially in this book - is sensational. I was pleased with the way Snyder adapted the novel, maintaining the key transformations of Scudder, while depicting the City as a bleak character in and of itself.
This book will appeal to everyone from die hard Scudder followers to fans of noir graphic novels. Perhaps my only quibble is with a few grammatical errors and misspellings in the lettering that will hopefully get fixed in later editions.
My copy of this book is signed by both Block and Snyder, and I’m happy to report that Block just recently announced that he has wrapped up a new Scudder. I can hardly wait.
blondeslater's review
dark
emotional
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.75
Content Warnings
Graphic: Alcoholism, Murder, Addiction, Alcohol, and Gun violence
jakewritesbooks's review against another edition
4.0
I really didn't expect this to be as good as it was.
I liked the book version of Eight Million Ways To Die well enough when I read it last year but I wouldn't say I loved it. It hit on a lot of cliches that I can't stand and that made me put off Scudder novels for a while. Alcoholic ex-cop-turned-PI, slashed prostitutes, New York as Babylon, etc. But Lawrence Block used the story to build a world and I've really come to like Matthew's world and how he inhabits it. So I respect the tale without being overly fond of its familiarity.
And yet, the art in this one perfectly captured Matthew Scudder's world. And they got enough of the story right to make it come alive. It was like reading the story again with new eyes, especially as Matt pushes himself closer to a real attempt at sobriety. When he finally gets there, the emotional payoff is worth it. It feels earned.
There really needs to be more graphic novel adaptations of good crime tales. I find myself enjoying almost all of the ones I read.
I liked the book version of Eight Million Ways To Die well enough when I read it last year but I wouldn't say I loved it. It hit on a lot of cliches that I can't stand and that made me put off Scudder novels for a while. Alcoholic ex-cop-turned-PI, slashed prostitutes, New York as Babylon, etc. But Lawrence Block used the story to build a world and I've really come to like Matthew's world and how he inhabits it. So I respect the tale without being overly fond of its familiarity.
And yet, the art in this one perfectly captured Matthew Scudder's world. And they got enough of the story right to make it come alive. It was like reading the story again with new eyes, especially as Matt pushes himself closer to a real attempt at sobriety. When he finally gets there, the emotional payoff is worth it. It feels earned.
There really needs to be more graphic novel adaptations of good crime tales. I find myself enjoying almost all of the ones I read.
skinnypenguin's review
3.0
Interesting plot that has a pimp being the nice guy. Glad to see he was getting out of the business at the end. Tough battle for Scudder with the booze. It was good for him to have a "case" to help keep his mind off drinking but occasionally it led to him wanting to drink. It is an all consuming vice. Like how he wanted to find out who killed the hooker and he didn't make judgements about a person's occupation. Lots of the cops didn't care because it was just a hooker but he felt it was important no matter who the person was.
carol26388's review
4.0
A book about the mystery of a dead hooker becomes a book about Matt Scudder taking one day at a time, trying to save himself from alcohol. The prose was dry and matter-of-fact; the words of a police report detailing his movements and contacts. And yet the way they were arranged, their anti-drama sensibility, packed an emotional punch. Definitely my favorite Scudder so far.
The synopsis: Scudder gets a visit from a beautiful dairy-maid hooker who wants his help leaving her john. A little unusual to modern sensibilities perhaps, but Scudder explains that police and prostitutes frequently have 'special' relationships, the police acting a little like lobbyists working on behalf of their clients at the big house. He agrees, mostly because he's in need of money. After searching a number of likely pimp-hangouts, a contact arranges meeting with Chance, her pimp, at a boxing match. It gives Scudder a chance to impress Chance with his eye and ability to spot a deal. Meeting over, he returns to the girl and tells her she's free (these are usually 'girls' in Scudder's world). To no one's surprise, she turns up dead shortly after their last meeting. Chance tracks Scudder down and convinces him to take the case, for reasons that are partially unclear to both of them, but have a lot to do with staying dry for Scudder. Back from a short bender and even shorter hospital stay, he's trying hard to stay busy and AA doesn't seem to be enough.
Character development shines in this book, and even the stereotypical hookers in Chance's stable have their own unique spin on their activities. The poet was a standout, but what really impressed me was how Block was able to make Scudder's struggle with alcohol consistently moving. I don't think I ever felt pity or impatience with his struggle; rather it was compassion for his courage, even when he wasn't able to quite articulate what and why he was doing. A scene in Harlem with a hopped-up mugger packs a wallop. In a book with an alcoholic main character, it's a writing cinch to go for the emotional crisis around a bottle, but instead Block springs it when Scudder is dry, cornered in an alley.
Small touches of humor mitigate the bleak, and the potential depressingness of the struggle with alcohol. For instance, Scudder pays his source Danny Boy to point out Chance at the boxing ring: "If it's any consolation, I'd want at least a hundred dollars to attend a hockey game." Ah, Danny Boy.
I enjoyed the writing even more this book. There's the occasional sentence or three when Block is able to so perfectly capture an image, I feel like I'm in the scene: "When I woke up the sun was shining. By the time I showered and shaved and hit the street it was gone, tucked away behind a bank of clouds. It came and went all day, as if whoever was in charge didn't want to commit himself."
The depth of humanity shown in the dry description of Scudder's meetings is consistently moving, whether it is the inanities relayed and Scudder's internal commentary, or the larger issues people are able to touch on. The way he conveys struggle in these tiny testaments without becoming maudlin or self-pitying is impressive.
Words of wisdom from Mary's qualifying: "You know, it was a revelation to me to learn that I don't have to be comfortable. Nowhere is it written that I must be comfortable. I always thought if I felt nervous or anxious or unhappy I had to do something about it. But I learned that's not true. Bad feelings won't kill me. Alcohol will kill me, but my feelings won't."
Interspersed though the book is the larger theme of the brutality and callusness of the big city. Somewhat unfortunately, he finds a kindred spirit in the cop Durkin, and their trading tales was just about enough to drive me to drink as well. Eight million stories in the big city, all right--and eight million ways to die. It says something for the quality of the writing that despite these weighty issues that the books itself is not depressing to read. Had you told me I'd me moved and impressed about a ex-drunk investigating some dead hookers, I would have raised a skeptical eyebrow. Glad I was wrong.
The weak spot was perhaps the ending. I didn't feel like Scudder had enough steps to make the final intuitive conclusion, and victim's actions become even more unclear. Nonetheless, a great journey getting there.
Cross posted at http://clsiewert.wordpress.com/2013/04/13/eight-million-ways-to-die-by-lawrence-block/
The synopsis: Scudder gets a visit from a beautiful dairy-maid hooker who wants his help leaving her john. A little unusual to modern sensibilities perhaps, but Scudder explains that police and prostitutes frequently have 'special' relationships, the police acting a little like lobbyists working on behalf of their clients at the big house. He agrees, mostly because he's in need of money. After searching a number of likely pimp-hangouts, a contact arranges meeting with Chance, her pimp, at a boxing match. It gives Scudder a chance to impress Chance with his eye and ability to spot a deal. Meeting over, he returns to the girl and tells her she's free (these are usually 'girls' in Scudder's world). To no one's surprise, she turns up dead shortly after their last meeting. Chance tracks Scudder down and convinces him to take the case, for reasons that are partially unclear to both of them, but have a lot to do with staying dry for Scudder. Back from a short bender and even shorter hospital stay, he's trying hard to stay busy and AA doesn't seem to be enough.
Character development shines in this book, and even the stereotypical hookers in Chance's stable have their own unique spin on their activities. The poet was a standout, but what really impressed me was how Block was able to make Scudder's struggle with alcohol consistently moving. I don't think I ever felt pity or impatience with his struggle; rather it was compassion for his courage, even when he wasn't able to quite articulate what and why he was doing. A scene in Harlem with a hopped-up mugger packs a wallop. In a book with an alcoholic main character, it's a writing cinch to go for the emotional crisis around a bottle, but instead Block springs it when Scudder is dry, cornered in an alley.
Small touches of humor mitigate the bleak, and the potential depressingness of the struggle with alcohol. For instance, Scudder pays his source Danny Boy to point out Chance at the boxing ring: "If it's any consolation, I'd want at least a hundred dollars to attend a hockey game." Ah, Danny Boy.
I enjoyed the writing even more this book. There's the occasional sentence or three when Block is able to so perfectly capture an image, I feel like I'm in the scene: "When I woke up the sun was shining. By the time I showered and shaved and hit the street it was gone, tucked away behind a bank of clouds. It came and went all day, as if whoever was in charge didn't want to commit himself."
The depth of humanity shown in the dry description of Scudder's meetings is consistently moving, whether it is the inanities relayed and Scudder's internal commentary, or the larger issues people are able to touch on. The way he conveys struggle in these tiny testaments without becoming maudlin or self-pitying is impressive.
Words of wisdom from Mary's qualifying: "You know, it was a revelation to me to learn that I don't have to be comfortable. Nowhere is it written that I must be comfortable. I always thought if I felt nervous or anxious or unhappy I had to do something about it. But I learned that's not true. Bad feelings won't kill me. Alcohol will kill me, but my feelings won't."
Interspersed though the book is the larger theme of the brutality and callusness of the big city. Somewhat unfortunately, he finds a kindred spirit in the cop Durkin, and their trading tales was just about enough to drive me to drink as well. Eight million stories in the big city, all right--and eight million ways to die. It says something for the quality of the writing that despite these weighty issues that the books itself is not depressing to read. Had you told me I'd me moved and impressed about a ex-drunk investigating some dead hookers, I would have raised a skeptical eyebrow. Glad I was wrong.
The weak spot was perhaps the ending. I didn't feel like Scudder had enough steps to make the final intuitive conclusion, and victim's actions become even more unclear. Nonetheless, a great journey getting there.
Cross posted at http://clsiewert.wordpress.com/2013/04/13/eight-million-ways-to-die-by-lawrence-block/
adiamond's review
4.0
Eight Million Ways to Die is the fifth in Lawrence Block’s Matthew Scudder detective series. You don’t need to have read any others in the series to follow this one.
Scudder is a former New York City cop who quit the force after accidentally killing a child while pursuing two thieves. By the time the book begins, he has long since left his family, and has been living for years in a mid-town Manhattan hotel. He makes his living under the table, as a cash-only unlicensed detective. His training helps him out, as do his connections on the force and on the street. His chronic drinking hinders him.
The story begins with Scudder in his favorite bar, talking to a prostitute who wants to get out of “the life.” She’s afraid to talk to her pimp, Chance, about leaving, and wants Scudder to feel him out first.
The pimp is not an easy man to find. While trying to track him down, Scudder has the following exchange with his informer, Danny Boy. The informer asks, “What can I do for you?”
When Scudder manages to track him down, he finds Chance is no ordinary pimp. He’s reserved, thoughtful, well-spoken, and introspective.
After Scudder finds the pimp has no objection to his client’s leaving, the prostitute is brutally murdered in a Manhattan hotel room. The pimp, obviously, is the prime suspect. The only problem, though, is that he has an airtight alibi.
With no other suspects to pursue, NYPD lets the case languish, but Scudder isn’t willing to let it go. The pimp returns and hires Scudder himself to find the killer.
That’s the setup. Most of the action involves Scudder doing old-fashioned detective work, what Scudder calls “goyakod”: Get off your ass and knock on doors. We then follow the detective through a number of encounters with cops, pimps, prostitutes, artists, witnesses, and drinking buddies in three of New York’s five boroughs.
The book is heavy on dialog, which is one of Block’s strong points as a writer. He doesn’t need to spend much time on backstory to develop rich characters. He reveals a person’s perspectives, attitudes, and temperament through their speech.
Eight Million Ways to Die was published in 1982 and takes place around that time. Much of the book is a meditation on the state of New York City, and if you spent much time in the city in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, you’ll find that Scudder’s narrative brings the old city vividly to life.
New York in the late ‘70s, with its filthy streets, its grafitti and general slovenliness was the urban incarnation of a hangover. By the early ‘80s, crime was rampant and seemed to be getting worse every day.
Scudder begins most of his days reading the news, which seems to be a catalog of human depravity. The title of the book comes from his reflection, after reading about a number of murders, that in a city of eight million people, there are eight million ways to die.
He spends much of the book working with an NYPD homicide detective named Durkin, a cop who has seen too many of the things cops see, and who bitterly laments the decline of the city. Many of Durkin’s complaints echo those of today’s political right: the influx of poor and struggling immigrants from all corners of the world has transformed the city into one he hardly recognizes. Many of the city’s new arrivals, it seems, have brought with them the troubles they were hoping to flee.
Durkin complains that when he goes on the subway he feels like he’s in a foreign country. He is overwhelmed by a world he can no longer comprehend, and he confides to Scudder that he can’t wait to retire. Trying to keep order in such a vast, unruly city has sapped his energy to the point where he just wants to withdraw.
As he tracks down the clues to the prostitute’s murder, Scudder spends an enormous amount of time and emotional energy contemplating his alcoholism and trying to resist the temptation of drinking. He admits that part of the reason he wants to keep working the murder case is to keep his mind off booze.
I won’t say how the investigation pans out, since that’s the mystery the reader signs up for when he or she picks up the book. I will say that like most good mysteries, the story isn’t about the crime or even the solving of it. It’s about a time and a place, the psyche of the main character, the world he inhabits and the lens through which he sees it. It’s about a violent, paranoid city in decline after Son of Sam, and the struggles of one of that city’s eight million souls as he tries to come to terms with his personal demons. Its final scene, one of the most famous in all of detective fiction, tells you it’s a book about character. And it’s well worth the read.
Scudder is a former New York City cop who quit the force after accidentally killing a child while pursuing two thieves. By the time the book begins, he has long since left his family, and has been living for years in a mid-town Manhattan hotel. He makes his living under the table, as a cash-only unlicensed detective. His training helps him out, as do his connections on the force and on the street. His chronic drinking hinders him.
The story begins with Scudder in his favorite bar, talking to a prostitute who wants to get out of “the life.” She’s afraid to talk to her pimp, Chance, about leaving, and wants Scudder to feel him out first.
The pimp is not an easy man to find. While trying to track him down, Scudder has the following exchange with his informer, Danny Boy. The informer asks, “What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for a pimp.”
“Diogenes was looking for an honest man. You have more of a field to choose from.”
“I’m looking for a particular pimp.”
“They’re all particular. Some of them are downright finicky. Has he got a name?”
When Scudder manages to track him down, he finds Chance is no ordinary pimp. He’s reserved, thoughtful, well-spoken, and introspective.
After Scudder finds the pimp has no objection to his client’s leaving, the prostitute is brutally murdered in a Manhattan hotel room. The pimp, obviously, is the prime suspect. The only problem, though, is that he has an airtight alibi.
With no other suspects to pursue, NYPD lets the case languish, but Scudder isn’t willing to let it go. The pimp returns and hires Scudder himself to find the killer.
That’s the setup. Most of the action involves Scudder doing old-fashioned detective work, what Scudder calls “goyakod”: Get off your ass and knock on doors. We then follow the detective through a number of encounters with cops, pimps, prostitutes, artists, witnesses, and drinking buddies in three of New York’s five boroughs.
The book is heavy on dialog, which is one of Block’s strong points as a writer. He doesn’t need to spend much time on backstory to develop rich characters. He reveals a person’s perspectives, attitudes, and temperament through their speech.
Eight Million Ways to Die was published in 1982 and takes place around that time. Much of the book is a meditation on the state of New York City, and if you spent much time in the city in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, you’ll find that Scudder’s narrative brings the old city vividly to life.
New York in the late ‘70s, with its filthy streets, its grafitti and general slovenliness was the urban incarnation of a hangover. By the early ‘80s, crime was rampant and seemed to be getting worse every day.
Scudder begins most of his days reading the news, which seems to be a catalog of human depravity. The title of the book comes from his reflection, after reading about a number of murders, that in a city of eight million people, there are eight million ways to die.
He spends much of the book working with an NYPD homicide detective named Durkin, a cop who has seen too many of the things cops see, and who bitterly laments the decline of the city. Many of Durkin’s complaints echo those of today’s political right: the influx of poor and struggling immigrants from all corners of the world has transformed the city into one he hardly recognizes. Many of the city’s new arrivals, it seems, have brought with them the troubles they were hoping to flee.
Durkin complains that when he goes on the subway he feels like he’s in a foreign country. He is overwhelmed by a world he can no longer comprehend, and he confides to Scudder that he can’t wait to retire. Trying to keep order in such a vast, unruly city has sapped his energy to the point where he just wants to withdraw.
As he tracks down the clues to the prostitute’s murder, Scudder spends an enormous amount of time and emotional energy contemplating his alcoholism and trying to resist the temptation of drinking. He admits that part of the reason he wants to keep working the murder case is to keep his mind off booze.
I won’t say how the investigation pans out, since that’s the mystery the reader signs up for when he or she picks up the book. I will say that like most good mysteries, the story isn’t about the crime or even the solving of it. It’s about a time and a place, the psyche of the main character, the world he inhabits and the lens through which he sees it. It’s about a violent, paranoid city in decline after Son of Sam, and the struggles of one of that city’s eight million souls as he tries to come to terms with his personal demons. Its final scene, one of the most famous in all of detective fiction, tells you it’s a book about character. And it’s well worth the read.
satyridae's review
4.0
I'm not a huge mystery fan, but I did adore Matt Scudder. I think I read most of them, then somehow drifted away.
katevane's review
5.0
Since I discovered Lawrence Block a few years ago I’ve read a lot of his novels and was a bit surprised to find I haven’t reviewed one yet. Eight Million Ways to Die is the fifth in the Matt Scudder series. It’s one of my favourites and the audiobook is narrated by the man himself!
I must admit I approached it with some trepidation. Which of us hasn’t sat through a live author reading on a hard seat with a fixed grin, as they mumble and shuffle their papers, longing for it to end so we can get to the bar? Often authors aren’t great performers and can’t project the music that’s in their head. In this case, though, Block did something more. His prose is very distinctive and he captured the rhythm and the downbeat mood just as I heard it in my head.
Scudder is a rootless former cop turned unlicensed investigator, living in a cheap motel. A prostitute called Kim wants to leave her pimp but is afraid to tell him, so she enlists Scudder’s help. The first thing Scudder has to do is find the enigmatic man, who is known only as Chance and appears to have no regular routine or social circle. When Kim is murdered, Scudder feels that he failed her and is determined to find her killer.
While the Scudder novels are firmly rooted in New York, many have a timeless quality to them. Often the only thing that reminds me they are not contemporary is the technology (in the early books Scudder spends a lot of time feeding dimes into payphones). Eight Million Ways to Die was first published in 1982 and it vividly portrays that period in New York’s history, when crime was out of hand, the news was full of senseless killings, and danger felt both ubiquitous and unavoidable.
Against this backdrop, Scudder is trying to fashion a new life for himself, one where he knows what is right and manages to do it. Drink and bars have always been a big part of Scudder’s story, but this is the first book in the series where he acknowledges his alcoholism.
At the centre of the crime and chaos of the city, the case and his attendance at AA give him a kind of structure and safety. The stories from the newspapers and from the people he questions in his investigation are interspersed with the stories from the people at AA meetings, though Scudder is not yet ready to share his own.
For me this is one of the most atmospheric Scudder novels and hearing it read by the author makes it even more special. It resonates today. The cacophony of headlines threatening to overwhelm Scudder are like the continual intrusive beeps and tweets of social media.
Scudder tells a man at AA that he is struggling to cope with all the bad news in the papers. The man suggests he just stops reading them.
*
This review first appeared on my blog katevane.com/blog
I must admit I approached it with some trepidation. Which of us hasn’t sat through a live author reading on a hard seat with a fixed grin, as they mumble and shuffle their papers, longing for it to end so we can get to the bar? Often authors aren’t great performers and can’t project the music that’s in their head. In this case, though, Block did something more. His prose is very distinctive and he captured the rhythm and the downbeat mood just as I heard it in my head.
Scudder is a rootless former cop turned unlicensed investigator, living in a cheap motel. A prostitute called Kim wants to leave her pimp but is afraid to tell him, so she enlists Scudder’s help. The first thing Scudder has to do is find the enigmatic man, who is known only as Chance and appears to have no regular routine or social circle. When Kim is murdered, Scudder feels that he failed her and is determined to find her killer.
While the Scudder novels are firmly rooted in New York, many have a timeless quality to them. Often the only thing that reminds me they are not contemporary is the technology (in the early books Scudder spends a lot of time feeding dimes into payphones). Eight Million Ways to Die was first published in 1982 and it vividly portrays that period in New York’s history, when crime was out of hand, the news was full of senseless killings, and danger felt both ubiquitous and unavoidable.
Against this backdrop, Scudder is trying to fashion a new life for himself, one where he knows what is right and manages to do it. Drink and bars have always been a big part of Scudder’s story, but this is the first book in the series where he acknowledges his alcoholism.
At the centre of the crime and chaos of the city, the case and his attendance at AA give him a kind of structure and safety. The stories from the newspapers and from the people he questions in his investigation are interspersed with the stories from the people at AA meetings, though Scudder is not yet ready to share his own.
For me this is one of the most atmospheric Scudder novels and hearing it read by the author makes it even more special. It resonates today. The cacophony of headlines threatening to overwhelm Scudder are like the continual intrusive beeps and tweets of social media.
Scudder tells a man at AA that he is struggling to cope with all the bad news in the papers. The man suggests he just stops reading them.
*
This review first appeared on my blog katevane.com/blog
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