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3.77 AVERAGE
3.77 AVERAGE
Good plot, but the characters were just flat. I can see how he could churn out a zillion books, if they are all like this. I haven't seen the movie, but maybe this is one story that's better on film.
I think, for a brief moment, I was expecting something a bit heavier when I picked this up - but (and I know I'm saying it again) the whole thing ended up being like Elmore Leonard had saddled up at the table next to me and started spinning a tale about his friend Chili Palmer and the mess he got himself into. It was cozy, it was funny, it was off-the-cuff without trying to be, and it popped. Doesn't make me any more interested in going to LA - but damned if I'm not smiling as I think about Chili Palmer getting upset over that coat that started the whole thing off. A fun time, indeed.
More at RB: http://ragingbiblioholism.com/2014/05/22/get-shorty/
More at RB: http://ragingbiblioholism.com/2014/05/22/get-shorty/
All right this book for all its fame, was not quite up to the same standard of the previous book of Leonard's I read, Mr Paradise. Not as knotty, not quite the same dirty dog characterisations.
In saying so, all the elements are there. No narrative to speak of, loaded dialogue, funny and ironic situations, and it just oozes cool.
In saying so, all the elements are there. No narrative to speak of, loaded dialogue, funny and ironic situations, and it just oozes cool.
Another book I recalled reading (maybe in the 90s). I think I've read a number of his books over the years, but the only other one I remember is Hombre, maybe because of the subsequent movie.
This book is okay if you like the clipped style. I wasn't pulled in by his characters.
This book is okay if you like the clipped style. I wasn't pulled in by his characters.
It was...madcap. I don't think I've ever used that word to describe a book, but it fits for some reason. It's basically a dark modern screwball comedy novel. I had fun reading it, but I have a feeling that if you work in the film industry, it would be even more fun. The ending felt really abrupt, but that's probably because I was reading it as an ebook, and I thought there were twenty pages left, but those twenty pages turned out to be extraneous stuff.
reading get shorty in this day and age is kind of like encountering a george romero film for the first time, after having grown up encountering only his imitators. the real thing is a revelation.
perhaps doesn't quite fit the "comic caper" tag, but i've been wanting to dust it off for a while now, so comic caper it is.
perhaps doesn't quite fit the "comic caper" tag, but i've been wanting to dust it off for a while now, so comic caper it is.
The story started off so well but, for me, increasingly lost impact as Chilli became Mr Nice Guy.
Week before last I took a trip by myself. It’s one of my favorite things to do, to disappear off the grid, to land up someplace in a [slightly sketchy; always slightly sketchy] motel. It’s not so much a vacation from anything as it is just a change of scenery.
One of the rules, and it hasn’t failed yet, is to make as many new friends as possible. I can do this on trips, because there’s so much wide open space of solitude that it’s hardly an intrusion. I’ll talk to anyone. I’ll talk to a lamppost.
This time, it was the beach. I made friends with the staff at this cheap old motel to the point where they were letting me have late breakfasts and a free ‘suite’ (I paid for a double and they gave me a king) and the run of the pool after closing, where I could swim all night if I wanted. I knew their kids’ names and grandkids’ names. I knew everyone in housekeeping. I was ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’ in the inviolable rule of southern hospitality.
So yes, this book was covered in sand from the hot salt ocean, it was read in the pool at 1 a.m. (One night it rained. A night swim alone near the ocean in the rain: how could you want that to end?) But more to the point I’m making, I pick the books I read on these trips with a purpose. They have to fit the mood but they have to be friends too, they have to sit by my plate at meals— to show it’s okay I’m eating alone— but never read through the meals because they’ve started too many conversations.
And the whole trip, I didn’t eat a meal alone. My favorite spot is this bar on the dock, the best burgers and shrimp on the beach, the local joint for all the retirees and fishermen. They’d tie up their boats right there on the dock and four out of every five meals, there I’d be. “Whatch-you reading?” is like “whatch-you fishing?” The best starter-kit for conversation there is.
I say all this not to say how many people went “Elmore Leonard!” or “Get Shawty?” or “That’s the one with Danny Devito?” I say it because I’m not convinced yet there’s a soul on the earth, asshole or saint, that can’t be won over with a good joke or a good story or someone just being an interesting, real human person. Where that isn’t enough to break all the rules and get away with anything and make family out of strangers. I’m sure those people exist. I’m saying I haven’t met one yet. And since that seems to be the basic law of Elmore’s universe too, well. It makes me feel like I’m not naive. It makes me feel like maybe that’s the basic law everywhere. And maybe, the more who believe that: it just might be.
Plus, my room number was 325. Chili Palmer’s with the guns and the money and newfound friends was 325. How’s that for kicks?
“What you don’t understand,” Catlett said, “is what the movie is saying. You live clean, the shit gets taken care of somehow or other. That’s what the movie’s about.”
“You believe that?”
“In movies, yeah. Movies haven’t got nothing to do with real life.”
One of the rules, and it hasn’t failed yet, is to make as many new friends as possible. I can do this on trips, because there’s so much wide open space of solitude that it’s hardly an intrusion. I’ll talk to anyone. I’ll talk to a lamppost.
This time, it was the beach. I made friends with the staff at this cheap old motel to the point where they were letting me have late breakfasts and a free ‘suite’ (I paid for a double and they gave me a king) and the run of the pool after closing, where I could swim all night if I wanted. I knew their kids’ names and grandkids’ names. I knew everyone in housekeeping. I was ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’ in the inviolable rule of southern hospitality.
So yes, this book was covered in sand from the hot salt ocean, it was read in the pool at 1 a.m. (One night it rained. A night swim alone near the ocean in the rain: how could you want that to end?) But more to the point I’m making, I pick the books I read on these trips with a purpose. They have to fit the mood but they have to be friends too, they have to sit by my plate at meals— to show it’s okay I’m eating alone— but never read through the meals because they’ve started too many conversations.
And the whole trip, I didn’t eat a meal alone. My favorite spot is this bar on the dock, the best burgers and shrimp on the beach, the local joint for all the retirees and fishermen. They’d tie up their boats right there on the dock and four out of every five meals, there I’d be. “Whatch-you reading?” is like “whatch-you fishing?” The best starter-kit for conversation there is.
I say all this not to say how many people went “Elmore Leonard!” or “Get Shawty?” or “That’s the one with Danny Devito?” I say it because I’m not convinced yet there’s a soul on the earth, asshole or saint, that can’t be won over with a good joke or a good story or someone just being an interesting, real human person. Where that isn’t enough to break all the rules and get away with anything and make family out of strangers. I’m sure those people exist. I’m saying I haven’t met one yet. And since that seems to be the basic law of Elmore’s universe too, well. It makes me feel like I’m not naive. It makes me feel like maybe that’s the basic law everywhere. And maybe, the more who believe that: it just might be.
Plus, my room number was 325. Chili Palmer’s with the guns and the money and newfound friends was 325. How’s that for kicks?
“What you don’t understand,” Catlett said, “is what the movie is saying. You live clean, the shit gets taken care of somehow or other. That’s what the movie’s about.”
“You believe that?”
“In movies, yeah. Movies haven’t got nothing to do with real life.”
adventurous
dark
mysterious
fast-paced
The phrase "rollicking good time" comes to mind! This is just a great satire/observation of Hollywood culture. Excellent plot, characters, and setting. I can't believe this is the first Elmore Leonard book I've read. I can't wait to read more.