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rocketiza's review against another edition
3.0
I found Lew Archer to be a bit lacking in personality, and the twist a little too far, but hey, good enough mystery.
roshk99's review against another edition
4.0
Entertaining and fast-paced. Macdonald has a way with words and can come up with unique and vivid description
kingofblades113's review against another edition
challenging
mysterious
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
5.0
johnnyb1954's review against another edition
adventurous
dark
mysterious
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
2.0
2 stars because I liked this the least of the books in the series I read so far.
It is off from his usual standards.
The whole idea of the quiz he gives Martel is ridiculous.
The final confrontation with the killer is poorly worn with unbelievable dialog.
The literary allusions throughout the book are forced and overdone.
While women in noir detective novels (the ones wired by men) are typically portrayed as emotional, weak, scheming, over sexualized, etc. MacDonald is usually a little less misogynistic than other authors. Here he seems contemptuous of all the women, even the ones he flirts with.
Archer’s string of concussions is broken in this book.
There are more overt sexual references in this story than in previous ones.
It is off from his usual standards.
The whole idea of the quiz he gives Martel is ridiculous.
The final confrontation with the killer is poorly worn with unbelievable dialog.
The literary allusions throughout the book are forced and overdone.
While women in noir detective novels (the ones wired by men) are typically portrayed as emotional, weak, scheming, over sexualized, etc. MacDonald is usually a little less misogynistic than other authors. Here he seems contemptuous of all the women, even the ones he flirts with.
Archer’s string of concussions is broken in this book.
There are more overt sexual references in this story than in previous ones.
hpuphd's review
5.0
In chapter four of this fantastic book from 1966, a character says, “It’s dangerous to get what you want, you know. It sets you up for tragedy.” Another character talks about how some think “money conferred spiritual grace.” The writing is consistently careful, measured: “A little pale moon hung in a corner of the sky, faint as a thumbprint on a windowpane.” Actually, it’s a private-eye story with detective Lew Archer but one with sensitivity, seemingly exploring sin as much as crime (with understanding outweighing judgment) and digging into how the pursuit of dreams can shipwreck both lives and souls. As often happens in the later novels by Ross Macdonald, an exploration of the present dredges up horrors from the past: “She looked down at the worn rug under her feet, as if there were monsters swimming just below it.” I was moved by the humanity in this story about the sorrow over the evil we do in this world.
jakewritesbooks's review against another edition
4.0
This one took more turns than I expected and though I had it figured out before the end, I appreciated the road to get there. One of the stronger Lew Archer tales.
Re-read (12/25/2018):
Black Money was one of the first books I read after the 2016 election. At the time, I was still making my way through the Lew Archer series. Like many people horrified at the election’s results, my mind was in a fog and I came to Black Money simply because it was the next book up. Although my brief Goodreads review says I liked it and thought it one of the best in the Archer series, I retain little memory of it given the time in which it was read. Since I’m going to make a big commitment in the ’19 to cleaning out my library of books I haven’t read, I wanted to make this my last re-read of 2018.
And I’m glad I did. Even by Macdonald’s high standards, Black Money is excellent and it may be the best in the series after The Chill. It is the perfect distillation of Macdonald’s talents: an empathetic Archer getting involved in shady family dealings with folks ruined by dreams deferred and unconsummated desire. Here, the dealings are especially sad. I felt a deep sadness for all characters involved, even if they were doing the most venal thing possible at every turn.
The mystery is interesting but I eventually learned to stop caring about it because I was so invested in what was happening with the characters. Macdonald is probably the reason why I care more for the “whydunnit” opposed to the “whodunnit.” He is a world class writer and this book is yet another example of why I believe the Archer series is the greatest detective series in American fiction.
Re-read (12/25/2018):
Black Money was one of the first books I read after the 2016 election. At the time, I was still making my way through the Lew Archer series. Like many people horrified at the election’s results, my mind was in a fog and I came to Black Money simply because it was the next book up. Although my brief Goodreads review says I liked it and thought it one of the best in the Archer series, I retain little memory of it given the time in which it was read. Since I’m going to make a big commitment in the ’19 to cleaning out my library of books I haven’t read, I wanted to make this my last re-read of 2018.
And I’m glad I did. Even by Macdonald’s high standards, Black Money is excellent and it may be the best in the series after The Chill. It is the perfect distillation of Macdonald’s talents: an empathetic Archer getting involved in shady family dealings with folks ruined by dreams deferred and unconsummated desire. Here, the dealings are especially sad. I felt a deep sadness for all characters involved, even if they were doing the most venal thing possible at every turn.
The mystery is interesting but I eventually learned to stop caring about it because I was so invested in what was happening with the characters. Macdonald is probably the reason why I care more for the “whydunnit” opposed to the “whodunnit.” He is a world class writer and this book is yet another example of why I believe the Archer series is the greatest detective series in American fiction.
jbrendanshaw's review against another edition
3.0
A good if dated mystery inspired by Fitzgerald’s Gatsby - the racism here can be a bit much and is somewhat enmeshed in the central mystery plot. Still, Macdonald knows how to turn a phrase and how to keep the pages turning.
psteve's review against another edition
4.0
Like others, I assume, I picked this one up because I saw that the Coen's were writing a screenplay of it, and maybe direct it. If so, it's kind of an odd one for them, in that there's not a lot of action necessarily, and the story is somewhat convoluted (maybe not the right word), and as is often the case with Macdonald, reaches into the past quite a bit.
Fat rich college kid Peter hires Archer to prevent the girl he's in love with from marrying someone he doesn't trust, and who he thinks will not be good for her. This leads Archer into quite a tangled web, eventually involving the supposed suicide of the girl's father, seven years in the past, and the mysterious background of the man she wants to marry. Things play out much differently than you suppose they will as you follow it, as is Macdonald's way. He's really very good at portraying his characters, and though Archer seems like he would be cynical, he professes at one point in this book to "love people." But this is a hard crew to love, though Archer is attracted to one of the most broken characters in the novel, and also to one who is doing a good job of making her way in the world. A pretty engrossing novel, and I am looking forward to seeing what the Coens will do with it.
It's to Macdonald's credit that when he's describing his characters and Archer's attitude towards them, he doesn't get cynical. He portrays them the way they are, and though some are pretty despicable, Archer and Macdonald understand their motives and portray them well.
Fat rich college kid Peter hires Archer to prevent the girl he's in love with from marrying someone he doesn't trust, and who he thinks will not be good for her. This leads Archer into quite a tangled web, eventually involving the supposed suicide of the girl's father, seven years in the past, and the mysterious background of the man she wants to marry. Things play out much differently than you suppose they will as you follow it, as is Macdonald's way. He's really very good at portraying his characters, and though Archer seems like he would be cynical, he professes at one point in this book to "love people." But this is a hard crew to love, though Archer is attracted to one of the most broken characters in the novel, and also to one who is doing a good job of making her way in the world. A pretty engrossing novel, and I am looking forward to seeing what the Coens will do with it.
It's to Macdonald's credit that when he's describing his characters and Archer's attitude towards them, he doesn't get cynical. He portrays them the way they are, and though some are pretty despicable, Archer and Macdonald understand their motives and portray them well.
llynn66's review
4.0
Entering the autumn of my life, I understand what I need to do in order to be a role model for my daughter. If I model respectful speech (and curb my flippant and colorful vocabulary around her), kindness, a solid work ethic, healthy eating and exercise habits, positive and constructive leisure activities, resilience in the face of trouble, acknowledgement of privilege and gratitude for the good things we enjoy, community involvement, a sense of humor, and the ability to acknowledge when I screw up, apologize and attempt to do better, then I am satisfied that I am making an honest job of it.
On the flip side, I struggle, at this moment in time, to find role models for myself. The elders of my youth are gone. It is a new world now and I realize that I must take up the mantle and be the leader (a role that ill suits me.) I believe that we never outgrow our need for role models -- those who came before us who leave us a road map for negotiating the more difficult aspects of life. Looking at the landscape of leadership in my nation, I am loathe to find what I seek.
Unsurprisingly, I have found a type of mentoring in the pages of books. I spent the last couple weeks (including my birthday) re-visiting Ross McDonald's noir detective, Lew Archer. The last time I read McDonald, I was in my twenties and very romanced by the style and mid 20th century cynical sophistication of the genre. This time around I noted something new. -- Reading Black Money made me realize that this sort of character linked me to a role model to whom I could relate.
McDonald's (a nom de plume for real life author Kenneth Millar) Southern California is populated with weary souls leading dingy lives (even among the well heeled.) These characters have few illusions left. Almost all of them carry secrets and present facades which barely conceal the potential for petty ugliness underneath. To make the story, at least one of them always commits a crime. And it becomes Lew Archer's job to sort through the trash and find the pieces that bring him to the truth. In this way, noir detectives tend to be straight up flat foots. There are no paranormal or science fiction flourishes. The writing style is punchy and spare in contrast to the more literary type of gumshoe we encounter in other sub-sets of the crime fiction universe. Archer inserts himself into the victim's circle, identifies his suspects, questions them in an effort to trip them up, and follows the leads where they take him. He encounters few heroes.
In Black Money, Archer is asked to 'save' beautiful socialite, Ginny Fablon, from the clutches of a foreign lover, Francis Martel, who is almost certainly a fortune seeker, attempting to soil the blueblood Ginny and take her money in the bargain. This is the version of events, at least, which is presented to Lew Archer by the client who hires him: doughy milquetoast Peter Jamieson. Jamieson is, of course, madly in love with Ginny. He pleads with Archer, "And I'm not talking out of jealousy. Even if I can't have her, I want to protect her." -- Jamieson throws further shade onto the reputation of his rival for Ginny's affection: "I'm serious, Mr. Archer. This man is apparently wanted by the police. He claims to be a Frenchman, a French aristocrat no less, but nobody really knows who he is or where he comes from. He may not even be Caucasian." (Revealing Mr. Jamieson to be just the sort of mid 20th century country clubber who would wield whiteness as a cudgel in a fight almost immediately.)
Archer agrees to talk to Ginny's family and associates and begins to doggedly chip away at the veneer of respectability they drape over themselves to varying degrees of success. In his travels he encounters another snoop, the rather feckless Harry Hendricks, 'amateur dick' who is casing Martel for 'associates' of his own. Hendricks and his ex, Kitty, factor into the web and represent two more potential suspects on the make, tied to organized crime and potentially dangerous when cornered.
Ginny's family consists of her mother, Marietta, and her deceased father, Roy, whose questionable suicide hangs like a shadow. Roy's death has put financial strain on the Fablon family, but to what degree? In an attempt to determine the veracity of Martel's claim of being a French national, Archer enlists the aid of Ginny's former French instructor, Professor Tappinger. Acher quickly discerns that "Taps" is married to a high strung younger wife and obviously is not thriving financially on his non tenured teaching track. Throw in a few more unsavory characters from the tennis club -- the nexus of the path which has thrown most of the primary players in this sordid drama together, and Archer delineates his stable of crooks and liars. Murders happen. Archer's quest heats up.
On the road to truth Archer reels people in with casual confidence and sardonic wit. Never a hot head, he knows when to edge away and refrain from needless provocation. Of his first hostile encounter with Harry Hendricks, Archer thinks, presciently, "It was the kind of situation I liked to avoid, or terminate quickly. As the century wore on -- I could feel it wearing on --angry pointless encounters like this one tended more and more to erupt in violence." (Note, this story was written in 1965.)
Lew Archer wastes little time on sentiment but does not lack sensitivity. This is the hallmark of the noir hero. He views the world without illusion and takes the flawed people he encounters for who they are. If he is lonely, he does not deny it. He also chooses not to dwell upon it. He knows what he has seen and how this world has changed him. His job requires that he examine how life has often corrupted the people he meets. Most of his life is a routine pursuit of inconvenient and unattractive facts, punctuated by the occasional burst of fear or excitement and, perhaps, the satisfaction of clearing the name of an innocent party or pinning the blame where it belongs.
The noir detective is not in the full color of youth. His stoicism demands that he has seen more of life and come to terms with it. His strength is in his experience and his ability to keep people and their issues at arms length. Yet the charm of the genre is that the noir detective always retains his humanity. He calls it a job, but becomes invested in the dignity of the victim. He believes in justice but refrains from revenge. Under Ross McDonald's especially fluent pen, Lew Archer finds just enough beauty in life. He investigates his sad sacks and losers and crooks with appropriate restraint and even a tinge of affection. Noir fiction takes us on endless treks through asphalt allies, industrial no man's land and achingly sad and monotonous suburban tracts. When done correctly, however, noir will also linger, for just a moment, in front of the wild flower that has, despite the odds, worked its way through the cracks. Therein lies the redemption. Something beautiful is made more so because it is all too rare.
Lew Archer and his fellows (Philip Marlowe, Sam Spade etc) model some lessons in adulthood which were conceived by our sturdier and far more modest forebears. This genre was birthed in the mid 20th century by people whose life experience encompassed two world wars and a global depression. Unlike their 'accentuate the positive!' peers in musical theater, the noir writers accepted their world for what it was -- often hostile, ugly and cheap. But unlike the truly dystopian, they created reluctant heroes who made a habit of getting up each day and doing their bit -- doing their bit without the blinders of false optimism or uncontrolled rage. And in so doing, they appeal to me in the same way that the faded but ethical-at-their core mid life characters of Rod Serling tug at my heart. Our world is currently in crisis. We seem to be falling apart on a global scale. So many villains seem to be winning. So many people are threatened and hurting. Now may be a perfect moment to recall the quiet and imperfect strength of noir detectives and apply some of their qualities to our own fractured and dark era.
On the flip side, I struggle, at this moment in time, to find role models for myself. The elders of my youth are gone. It is a new world now and I realize that I must take up the mantle and be the leader (a role that ill suits me.) I believe that we never outgrow our need for role models -- those who came before us who leave us a road map for negotiating the more difficult aspects of life. Looking at the landscape of leadership in my nation, I am loathe to find what I seek.
Unsurprisingly, I have found a type of mentoring in the pages of books. I spent the last couple weeks (including my birthday) re-visiting Ross McDonald's noir detective, Lew Archer. The last time I read McDonald, I was in my twenties and very romanced by the style and mid 20th century cynical sophistication of the genre. This time around I noted something new. -- Reading Black Money made me realize that this sort of character linked me to a role model to whom I could relate.
McDonald's (a nom de plume for real life author Kenneth Millar) Southern California is populated with weary souls leading dingy lives (even among the well heeled.) These characters have few illusions left. Almost all of them carry secrets and present facades which barely conceal the potential for petty ugliness underneath. To make the story, at least one of them always commits a crime. And it becomes Lew Archer's job to sort through the trash and find the pieces that bring him to the truth. In this way, noir detectives tend to be straight up flat foots. There are no paranormal or science fiction flourishes. The writing style is punchy and spare in contrast to the more literary type of gumshoe we encounter in other sub-sets of the crime fiction universe. Archer inserts himself into the victim's circle, identifies his suspects, questions them in an effort to trip them up, and follows the leads where they take him. He encounters few heroes.
In Black Money, Archer is asked to 'save' beautiful socialite, Ginny Fablon, from the clutches of a foreign lover, Francis Martel, who is almost certainly a fortune seeker, attempting to soil the blueblood Ginny and take her money in the bargain. This is the version of events, at least, which is presented to Lew Archer by the client who hires him: doughy milquetoast Peter Jamieson. Jamieson is, of course, madly in love with Ginny. He pleads with Archer, "And I'm not talking out of jealousy. Even if I can't have her, I want to protect her." -- Jamieson throws further shade onto the reputation of his rival for Ginny's affection: "I'm serious, Mr. Archer. This man is apparently wanted by the police. He claims to be a Frenchman, a French aristocrat no less, but nobody really knows who he is or where he comes from. He may not even be Caucasian." (Revealing Mr. Jamieson to be just the sort of mid 20th century country clubber who would wield whiteness as a cudgel in a fight almost immediately.)
Archer agrees to talk to Ginny's family and associates and begins to doggedly chip away at the veneer of respectability they drape over themselves to varying degrees of success. In his travels he encounters another snoop, the rather feckless Harry Hendricks, 'amateur dick' who is casing Martel for 'associates' of his own. Hendricks and his ex, Kitty, factor into the web and represent two more potential suspects on the make, tied to organized crime and potentially dangerous when cornered.
Ginny's family consists of her mother, Marietta, and her deceased father, Roy, whose questionable suicide hangs like a shadow. Roy's death has put financial strain on the Fablon family, but to what degree? In an attempt to determine the veracity of Martel's claim of being a French national, Archer enlists the aid of Ginny's former French instructor, Professor Tappinger. Acher quickly discerns that "Taps" is married to a high strung younger wife and obviously is not thriving financially on his non tenured teaching track. Throw in a few more unsavory characters from the tennis club -- the nexus of the path which has thrown most of the primary players in this sordid drama together, and Archer delineates his stable of crooks and liars. Murders happen. Archer's quest heats up.
On the road to truth Archer reels people in with casual confidence and sardonic wit. Never a hot head, he knows when to edge away and refrain from needless provocation. Of his first hostile encounter with Harry Hendricks, Archer thinks, presciently, "It was the kind of situation I liked to avoid, or terminate quickly. As the century wore on -- I could feel it wearing on --angry pointless encounters like this one tended more and more to erupt in violence." (Note, this story was written in 1965.)
Lew Archer wastes little time on sentiment but does not lack sensitivity. This is the hallmark of the noir hero. He views the world without illusion and takes the flawed people he encounters for who they are. If he is lonely, he does not deny it. He also chooses not to dwell upon it. He knows what he has seen and how this world has changed him. His job requires that he examine how life has often corrupted the people he meets. Most of his life is a routine pursuit of inconvenient and unattractive facts, punctuated by the occasional burst of fear or excitement and, perhaps, the satisfaction of clearing the name of an innocent party or pinning the blame where it belongs.
The noir detective is not in the full color of youth. His stoicism demands that he has seen more of life and come to terms with it. His strength is in his experience and his ability to keep people and their issues at arms length. Yet the charm of the genre is that the noir detective always retains his humanity. He calls it a job, but becomes invested in the dignity of the victim. He believes in justice but refrains from revenge. Under Ross McDonald's especially fluent pen, Lew Archer finds just enough beauty in life. He investigates his sad sacks and losers and crooks with appropriate restraint and even a tinge of affection. Noir fiction takes us on endless treks through asphalt allies, industrial no man's land and achingly sad and monotonous suburban tracts. When done correctly, however, noir will also linger, for just a moment, in front of the wild flower that has, despite the odds, worked its way through the cracks. Therein lies the redemption. Something beautiful is made more so because it is all too rare.
Lew Archer and his fellows (Philip Marlowe, Sam Spade etc) model some lessons in adulthood which were conceived by our sturdier and far more modest forebears. This genre was birthed in the mid 20th century by people whose life experience encompassed two world wars and a global depression. Unlike their 'accentuate the positive!' peers in musical theater, the noir writers accepted their world for what it was -- often hostile, ugly and cheap. But unlike the truly dystopian, they created reluctant heroes who made a habit of getting up each day and doing their bit -- doing their bit without the blinders of false optimism or uncontrolled rage. And in so doing, they appeal to me in the same way that the faded but ethical-at-their core mid life characters of Rod Serling tug at my heart. Our world is currently in crisis. We seem to be falling apart on a global scale. So many villains seem to be winning. So many people are threatened and hurting. Now may be a perfect moment to recall the quiet and imperfect strength of noir detectives and apply some of their qualities to our own fractured and dark era.