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usbsticky's review against another edition
4.0
I've been reading these in order and I assume that people reading this review started from book 1 so I won't explain the characters and the series. For those not familiar with the series, I suggest they start from book #1.
Spoilers ahead:
As usual Block does a pretty good job of segueing two story lines into one. In plot 1, a brother hires Scudder because he thinks that his brother in law (Thurman) staged a burglary gone bad in which his sister was raped and killed. He just wants the evidence that his BIL did it.
In plot 2, a fellow AA member discovers a snuff film taped over into the middle of a commercial VHS copy of the Dirty Dozen. Scudder decides to find the story behind it. By patient footwork, he discovers the man who owned the tape. He did this by investigating the rental store that the tape came from. He assumes that the man (since died) lived close by and was a renter. By looking through the records of people who stopped renting he finds the man. However it seems to be a dead end as the man was killed in a robbery.
By accident he is able to link Thurman and the culprit of the snuff film (Stettner) when he sees them at a boxing match together. By now Scudder has a lot of evidence that Thurman killed his wife and Stettner is the man in the snuff flim, but nothing concrete (or that can be explained away) that can be used to convict either one of them. In fact, Scudder's police friend (Durkin) is so bitter at the justice system that he gets upset and dead drunk while meeting Scudder at a dive.
At this point the series takes a turn (actually in the last book too). Is this series going to be a vigilante series? Because that's what's going to happen. Thurman is killed (probably by Stettner to keep his mouth shut) and Scudder sets up Stettner for a meet, ostensibly to trade the snuff tape for $50k but we know something else is in the works because he takes Ballou (a gangster he met a few books ago) and his crew along.
Stettner has set up Scudder too with 2 gunmen in an ambush but Ballou kills them both. And during the changeover, which has turned into a straight up robbery, Ballou kills Stettner and Scudder shoots his wife (who is an active participant in the films).
Afterwards Scudder meets up with Faber (his AA sponsor), tells him everything and explains his rationale (basically to the readers) of why he did it. We already know, since in the last book Scudder killed the villain because he didn't think the justice system would do justice.
The series: Block does a great job of making the characters real and the detective protocol footwork interesting. The characters are becoming a bit cliched though, everything from the street smart urchin, to the earnest detective or the high minded criminal. Sometimes the action is a bit slow when Block decides to write pages of philosophy or thought that doesn't move the plot along. Still, I'm vested in the characters. I like Scudder and I want to see him solve more crime and punish more villains. The plots have been quite unique and not cookie-cutter like many other authors. OK, on to the next book!
Spoilers ahead:
As usual Block does a pretty good job of segueing two story lines into one. In plot 1, a brother hires Scudder because he thinks that his brother in law (Thurman) staged a burglary gone bad in which his sister was raped and killed. He just wants the evidence that his BIL did it.
In plot 2, a fellow AA member discovers a snuff film taped over into the middle of a commercial VHS copy of the Dirty Dozen. Scudder decides to find the story behind it. By patient footwork, he discovers the man who owned the tape. He did this by investigating the rental store that the tape came from. He assumes that the man (since died) lived close by and was a renter. By looking through the records of people who stopped renting he finds the man. However it seems to be a dead end as the man was killed in a robbery.
By accident he is able to link Thurman and the culprit of the snuff film (Stettner) when he sees them at a boxing match together. By now Scudder has a lot of evidence that Thurman killed his wife and Stettner is the man in the snuff flim, but nothing concrete (or that can be explained away) that can be used to convict either one of them. In fact, Scudder's police friend (Durkin) is so bitter at the justice system that he gets upset and dead drunk while meeting Scudder at a dive.
At this point the series takes a turn (actually in the last book too). Is this series going to be a vigilante series? Because that's what's going to happen. Thurman is killed (probably by Stettner to keep his mouth shut) and Scudder sets up Stettner for a meet, ostensibly to trade the snuff tape for $50k but we know something else is in the works because he takes Ballou (a gangster he met a few books ago) and his crew along.
Stettner has set up Scudder too with 2 gunmen in an ambush but Ballou kills them both. And during the changeover, which has turned into a straight up robbery, Ballou kills Stettner and Scudder shoots his wife (who is an active participant in the films).
Afterwards Scudder meets up with Faber (his AA sponsor), tells him everything and explains his rationale (basically to the readers) of why he did it. We already know, since in the last book Scudder killed the villain because he didn't think the justice system would do justice.
The series: Block does a great job of making the characters real and the detective protocol footwork interesting. The characters are becoming a bit cliched though, everything from the street smart urchin, to the earnest detective or the high minded criminal. Sometimes the action is a bit slow when Block decides to write pages of philosophy or thought that doesn't move the plot along. Still, I'm vested in the characters. I like Scudder and I want to see him solve more crime and punish more villains. The plots have been quite unique and not cookie-cutter like many other authors. OK, on to the next book!
gracenow's review against another edition
3.0
3 1/2 stars. I love Matthew Scudder but this was such a walk down violent and seedy areas, things I'd never even want to contemplate. Saw a side of Scudder that I don't believe was ever repeated (I believe I've read all of his Scudder books). Meet TJ in this, a young street kid who helps Scudder out over the course of many of the books. I will say the last 50 pages I was glued to the book, nothing short of the power going out, so I can't see, would have stopped me from finishing it.
bundy23's review against another edition
4.0
9 books in and just when I was feeling like Matthew Scudder was becoming predictable Lawrence Block throws this ending at me… Well played Mr. Block.
The only thing holding this back from that magical 5th star is that there are maybe a few too many coincidences that tie the 2 cases together here. Normally that would make me groan and roll my eyes but for whatever reason it actually kind of almost works in the horrible, dirty, grimy world that Scudder exists in.
4.4 stars
The only thing holding this back from that magical 5th star is that there are maybe a few too many coincidences that tie the 2 cases together here. Normally that would make me groan and roll my eyes but for whatever reason it actually kind of almost works in the horrible, dirty, grimy world that Scudder exists in.
4.4 stars
jakewritesbooks's review against another edition
4.0
I’m a mystery book lover and I’ve read plenty of Edgar Award recipients. For the life of me, I don’t know why they pick some of the ones they do. Margaret Millar’s Beast in View is fine but it in no way should be considered better than Patricia Highsmith’s The Talented Mr. Ripley. Some of the other winners I’ve not been impressed with either, especially ones by Stephen King and Noah Hawley.
Occasionally, they do get it right. The Laughing Policeman, Briarpatch and The Spy That Came In From the Cold are a few examples of recognizing true greatness.
You can add A Dance At the Slaughterhouse to the list. Wow.
This is probably the best Scudder book I’ve read in the series. Two mysteries at the heart of it but it reads more like a thriller. Block is always a readable hang but here I literally couldn’t turn the pages fast enough. And while there is a heavy dose of coincidence, and I don’t like coincidence, the way it resolves itself is of the highest quality.
I also like how Block allows Matthew to reckon with the things he’s done without being too heavy handed. I appreciate an author that is willing to truly step into a gray worldview as opposed to one who leans into moral ambiguity for the sake of making their protagonist look like a martyred hero. Block has come a long way with this series and he really trusts his readers. In this, it’s rewarded.
This book also doubles as an excellent time capsule of a New York City that, like the protagonist of the books, is on the edge of change as it enters the 90s. Matthew has to jaunt through the seedy Times Square that will be completely redone well before the decade is out. It still has that visceral edge of things spilling over at any moment but the cracks of change are showing. I’m looking forward to seeing how Block will portray the Giuliani era, which turned Manhattan into a theme park at the expense of many lower class folk who lived and work there.
I’m excited to go through the rest of the series but I don’t know how much better it can get than this.
Occasionally, they do get it right. The Laughing Policeman, Briarpatch and The Spy That Came In From the Cold are a few examples of recognizing true greatness.
You can add A Dance At the Slaughterhouse to the list. Wow.
This is probably the best Scudder book I’ve read in the series. Two mysteries at the heart of it but it reads more like a thriller. Block is always a readable hang but here I literally couldn’t turn the pages fast enough. And while there is a heavy dose of coincidence, and I don’t like coincidence, the way it resolves itself is of the highest quality.
I also like how Block allows Matthew to reckon with the things he’s done without being too heavy handed. I appreciate an author that is willing to truly step into a gray worldview as opposed to one who leans into moral ambiguity for the sake of making their protagonist look like a martyred hero. Block has come a long way with this series and he really trusts his readers. In this, it’s rewarded.
This book also doubles as an excellent time capsule of a New York City that, like the protagonist of the books, is on the edge of change as it enters the 90s. Matthew has to jaunt through the seedy Times Square that will be completely redone well before the decade is out. It still has that visceral edge of things spilling over at any moment but the cracks of change are showing. I’m looking forward to seeing how Block will portray the Giuliani era, which turned Manhattan into a theme park at the expense of many lower class folk who lived and work there.
I’m excited to go through the rest of the series but I don’t know how much better it can get than this.
lobo1tomia's review against another edition
4.0
Mivel rendszeresen olvasok Block-ot, legalábbis a magyarul megjelent könyveit, mindig hasonlítgatom is őket kicsit egymáshoz. Főleg az az érdekes, hogy mennyire más képet nyújt Scudder szemén keresztül New Yorkról, mint a Bernie regényekben. Mert itt aztán megjelenik a nyomor és az alvilág minden sötét bugyra ami egy nagyvárosban csak lehetséges. Ebben a regényben például, ami az 1980-as évek közepén játszódik amikor az AIDS éppen csak mainstream betegség lett, mindenféle, a szexszel kapcsolatos aberráció kap helyet. S közben ugyanakkor mégis élhetőnek tűnik New York, ahol jókat lehet enni, színházba járni meg kirándulni. Fura volt ez a kettősség, mint ahogy még mindig képes vagyok meglepődni, hogy jé, tényleg, alig 30 éve az embereknek még nem volt természetes, hogy a számítógépek mennyi minden adatot tartalmaznak, hogy mobilokról sokkal gyorsabban lehet telefonálni. Na meg az is különleges volt, ha valaki magánemberként rendelkezett audio-vizuális eszközzel. Matt-nek még videomagnója sincs!
Ami még a Scudder regények visszatérő témája, az az alkoholizmus. Hiszen Matt alkoholista, bár már évek óta nem ivott, de ebből a betegségből úgy tartják, nem lehet kigyógyulni. Majd minden regényben, ami azóta keletkezett, hogy letette a poharát van egy pont, ahol meginog, s már-már nyúlna az üveg után. Ám itt ez nem történik meg, ami azt hiszem, még őt magát is meglepi. Nekem, mint olvasónak az jön át nagyon, hogy mennyire őszintén ír Block az alkoholizmusról, hogy milyen nehéz lehet leküzdeni ezt és tényleg csak a sorstársaktól kaphat segítséget az ember. Mert ki más az, aki megérti őket? Akik ugyanúgy tudják, min mennek keresztül nap mint nap, amikor az alkohol kísérti egy nagyvárosi ember szinte minden lépését. Úgyhogy kezdem megérteni az AA gyűlésekre járás szükségességét is. Mert Matt is ahányszor nehéz helyzetbe kerül, felkeres egy helyet, ahol hozzá hasonlóakkal beszélhet, akik meghallgatják és támogatják és szurkolnak neki.
Block a Scudder regényekben tudatosan és folyamatosan kényelmetlen helyzetbe hozza az olvasót. Szinte soha semmi se simán fekete vagy fehér, ha az ember Matt Scudder útját követi. De az biztos, hogy úgy kell dönteni, hogy együtt tudjunk élni vele és ne nyúljunk a pohár után.
Részletesebben: http://olvasonaplo.net/olvasonaplo/2012/09/11/lawrence_block_tanc_a_meszarszeken/
Ami még a Scudder regények visszatérő témája, az az alkoholizmus. Hiszen Matt alkoholista, bár már évek óta nem ivott, de ebből a betegségből úgy tartják, nem lehet kigyógyulni. Majd minden regényben, ami azóta keletkezett, hogy letette a poharát van egy pont, ahol meginog, s már-már nyúlna az üveg után. Ám itt ez nem történik meg, ami azt hiszem, még őt magát is meglepi. Nekem, mint olvasónak az jön át nagyon, hogy mennyire őszintén ír Block az alkoholizmusról, hogy milyen nehéz lehet leküzdeni ezt és tényleg csak a sorstársaktól kaphat segítséget az ember. Mert ki más az, aki megérti őket? Akik ugyanúgy tudják, min mennek keresztül nap mint nap, amikor az alkohol kísérti egy nagyvárosi ember szinte minden lépését. Úgyhogy kezdem megérteni az AA gyűlésekre járás szükségességét is. Mert Matt is ahányszor nehéz helyzetbe kerül, felkeres egy helyet, ahol hozzá hasonlóakkal beszélhet, akik meghallgatják és támogatják és szurkolnak neki.
Block a Scudder regényekben tudatosan és folyamatosan kényelmetlen helyzetbe hozza az olvasót. Szinte soha semmi se simán fekete vagy fehér, ha az ember Matt Scudder útját követi. De az biztos, hogy úgy kell dönteni, hogy együtt tudjunk élni vele és ne nyúljunk a pohár után.
Részletesebben: http://olvasonaplo.net/olvasonaplo/2012/09/11/lawrence_block_tanc_a_meszarszeken/
epictetsocrate's review against another edition
4.0
La mijlocul celei de-a cincea runde, puştiul în şort albastru şi-a zguduit adversarul cu o stângă serioasă în maxilar. Imediat după, i-a tras o dreaptă drept în cap.
— E gata să se prăbuşească, a spus Mick Ballou.
Chiar aşa arăta, dar când băiatul în albastru a început să se clatine, celălalt a reuşit să-i fure un pumn şi s-a agăţat anevoie în clinci. Înainte ca arbitrul să îi despartă, i-am putut zări ochii. Păreau opaci, neconcentraţi.
— Cât a mai rămas?
— Peste un minut.
— Timp berechet, a spus Mick. Fii atent cum omul tău îl face lat pe băiat. La cât e de mic, e tare ca un taur.
Nu erau chiar aşa mici. Boxau la categoria semimijlocie, ceea ce însemna că aveau în jur de 70 kg. Cândva ştiam limitele de greutate ale tuturor categoriilor, însă pe-atunci era uşor. Acum numărul categoriilor lor s-a dublat, au apărut tot felul de nuanţe şi există trei organizaţii diferite, fiecare cu propriul ei campion. Cred că moda a început când cineva şi-a dat seama că e mai uşor să promovezi o partidă de titlu şi s-a ajuns acum de numai la aşa ceva mai poţi să asişti.
Meciul la care asistam însă, nu avea nici o miză de titlu şi era hăt-departe de strălucirea şi amploarea luptelor de campionat ţinute în cazinourile din Vegas şi Atlantic City. Mai exact spus, eram într-o baracă din blocuri de beton pe o stradă întunecată din Maspeth, o zonă industrială pustie din cartierul Queens, mărginită la sud şi la vest de secţiunile Greenpoint şi Bushwick ale Brooklyn-ului şi delimitată de restul cartierului de un semicerc de cimitire. Ai fi putut trăi toată viaţa în New York fără să ajungi vreodată în Maspeth sau puteai trece cu maşina pe acolo de zeci de ori fără să ai habar unde eşti. Cu depozitele, fabricile şi străzile rezidenţiale sordide de acolo, slabe şanse ca cineva să treacă Maspeth pe lista sa scurtă a locurilor pentru investiţii viitoare, dar presupun că nu se ştie niciodată. Mai devreme sau mai târziu, investitorii rămân în pană de locuri şi-atunci depozitele părăginite ar putea fi readuse la viaţă, transformate în hogeacuri pentru artişti, iar tinerii ecologişti urbani vor smulge cartonul gudronat putred de pe pereţii caselor terasate şi vor redecora interioarele. Atunci, de-a lungul trotuarelor de pe Grand Avenue vor creşte arbori de ginkgo biloba şi va fi câte-un aprozar coreean la fiecare intersecţie.
Până una alta, singurul semn pe care îl văzusem şi care să trimită la viitorul glorios al cartierului era New Maspeth Arena. Cu câteva luni în urmă, Madison Square Garden închisese sala Felt Forum în vederea renovării, iar cândva, pe la începutul lui decembrie, New Maspeth Arena se deschisese, oferind o serie de meciuri de box în fiecare seară de joi, rundele preliminarii începând în jur de şapte.
— E gata să se prăbuşească, a spus Mick Ballou.
Chiar aşa arăta, dar când băiatul în albastru a început să se clatine, celălalt a reuşit să-i fure un pumn şi s-a agăţat anevoie în clinci. Înainte ca arbitrul să îi despartă, i-am putut zări ochii. Păreau opaci, neconcentraţi.
— Cât a mai rămas?
— Peste un minut.
— Timp berechet, a spus Mick. Fii atent cum omul tău îl face lat pe băiat. La cât e de mic, e tare ca un taur.
Nu erau chiar aşa mici. Boxau la categoria semimijlocie, ceea ce însemna că aveau în jur de 70 kg. Cândva ştiam limitele de greutate ale tuturor categoriilor, însă pe-atunci era uşor. Acum numărul categoriilor lor s-a dublat, au apărut tot felul de nuanţe şi există trei organizaţii diferite, fiecare cu propriul ei campion. Cred că moda a început când cineva şi-a dat seama că e mai uşor să promovezi o partidă de titlu şi s-a ajuns acum de numai la aşa ceva mai poţi să asişti.
Meciul la care asistam însă, nu avea nici o miză de titlu şi era hăt-departe de strălucirea şi amploarea luptelor de campionat ţinute în cazinourile din Vegas şi Atlantic City. Mai exact spus, eram într-o baracă din blocuri de beton pe o stradă întunecată din Maspeth, o zonă industrială pustie din cartierul Queens, mărginită la sud şi la vest de secţiunile Greenpoint şi Bushwick ale Brooklyn-ului şi delimitată de restul cartierului de un semicerc de cimitire. Ai fi putut trăi toată viaţa în New York fără să ajungi vreodată în Maspeth sau puteai trece cu maşina pe acolo de zeci de ori fără să ai habar unde eşti. Cu depozitele, fabricile şi străzile rezidenţiale sordide de acolo, slabe şanse ca cineva să treacă Maspeth pe lista sa scurtă a locurilor pentru investiţii viitoare, dar presupun că nu se ştie niciodată. Mai devreme sau mai târziu, investitorii rămân în pană de locuri şi-atunci depozitele părăginite ar putea fi readuse la viaţă, transformate în hogeacuri pentru artişti, iar tinerii ecologişti urbani vor smulge cartonul gudronat putred de pe pereţii caselor terasate şi vor redecora interioarele. Atunci, de-a lungul trotuarelor de pe Grand Avenue vor creşte arbori de ginkgo biloba şi va fi câte-un aprozar coreean la fiecare intersecţie.
Până una alta, singurul semn pe care îl văzusem şi care să trimită la viitorul glorios al cartierului era New Maspeth Arena. Cu câteva luni în urmă, Madison Square Garden închisese sala Felt Forum în vederea renovării, iar cândva, pe la începutul lui decembrie, New Maspeth Arena se deschisese, oferind o serie de meciuri de box în fiecare seară de joi, rundele preliminarii începând în jur de şapte.
jswriter's review against another edition
4.0
Whenever Fall comes around, I find myself in the mood for a Matthew Scudder story from Lawrence Block. Maybe it has to do with the chilly air, makes me think of the cold, unfeeling New York in Block's novels.
This one is a darker one than most. Scudder is his usual dependable self, walking the straight and narrow (for the most part) because no one else seems to want to. On the trail of one suspect, he comes across a grisly case he'd put on the back burner. There's a little more Deus Ex Machina than I'm used to in Block's work, so this takes the story down a little for me. However, I'd still recommend this one.
This one is a darker one than most. Scudder is his usual dependable self, walking the straight and narrow (for the most part) because no one else seems to want to. On the trail of one suspect, he comes across a grisly case he'd put on the back burner. There's a little more Deus Ex Machina than I'm used to in Block's work, so this takes the story down a little for me. However, I'd still recommend this one.
redsg's review against another edition
2.0
When I had gotten through about the first third of A Dance at the Slaughterhouse, I knew immediately that my review would begin with something along the lines of "this might be the most boring entry in the Matthew Scudder series." Now that I have finished it, I can unfortunately say that not only is it the most boring, but it is also, in my opinion, the worst book of them all.
At the time of this critique, I realize I have not written up reviews of the first 5 novels (I don't believe I had created a Goodreads account at the time), but to give you all a quick recap, the only Scudder book I considered outright bad up to this point was the chronological second one Time to Murder and Create. This was because that book was full of contrivances that made the resolution of the mystery bizarre, and Scudder acted in dumb ways that mad me lose respect for him.
With Dance, not only do we have worse contrivances, we don't even have any type of mystery solving by the esteemed private eye. And it's a shame, because the premise of Scudder trying to find the origins of a snuff film whilst also investigating the murder of a pregnant woman had the potential to be the darkest, most interpersonal entry in the series since 8 Million Ways to Die.
The opening chapter sets the stage for the disappointment that will follow- Scudder and Mick Ballou attending a boxing match. It's boring (a crime for boxing of all sports), pointlessly drawn-out, and only at the very end develops into a decent progressive plot point. These are the biggest issues present throughout Dance: most of the text is full of dull situations that don't amount to anything, and those that do are only marginally good. In addition, Ballou plays perhaps his largest part in a Scudder book since Out on the Cutting Edge, which, as you guys know from my review of A Ticket to the Boneyard, was not welcome: to summarize, I hate the character of Ballou. He's an immoral individual, a mobman and murderer, and his ruminations about life are flat-out annoying to listen to. That Scudder has a strong friendship with him degrades Block's esteemed protagonist.
I'll get back to Ballou later, but he isn't the only one with stories that are interminable. In a lot of ways, Dance feels like Block's attempt at pulling a Cormac McCarthy: creating elongated conversations that are meant to convey some deeper meaning about the human condition, and I just don't think he succeeded here. The tales, individually, are interesting enough, but they lack the metaphorical power he was clearly going for. I wish I could put into words why I feel they failed, but if I were to venture an educated guess, it would be that he goes for too extreme scenarios. One involves the attempted rape of a woman about to die, another a father who viciously beats his pre-adolescent daughter, another a news story about an innocent bystander killed as collateral damage in a shootout, another about kids being turned into sex slaves on the streets, and so forth. I'm not saying these things don't happen or aren't worth examining for the sake of producing some sort of philosophical analysis, but what I am saying is that they all feel too adultish.
In fact, Dance might be the closest Block has come to trying too hard to be edgy. I think he's a talented enough writer to avoid falling into that "grimdark" trap that some authors stumble into when attempting to produce a work for adult audiences, but there's no denying that the premise combined with factoids about said premise combined with the aforestated McCarthy-esque metastories hit that boundary way more than they should.
But I could've easily forgiven all of this had the main narrative been as engaging as it had the potential to be. However, I go back to my original point that most of the book is flat-out boring. Scudder will go and talk to someone and they will produce nothing of value/nothing that leads to him going anywhere. A great example of this is when he goes to meet with Chance to see if the former pimp knows anything about a guy he's looking for: surprise surprise, he doesn't, and their dialogue doesn't amount to anything worth reading.
What's worse is that, all too often, there are instances where he is delayed in an action/attempted convo, with that delay not creating any tension and feeling more like Block was trying to hit a specific word count. Two great examples: Scudder goes to a video store to find out more information on the snuff cassette he has, only for the store owner to say he's too busy and to come back tomorrow. Why not have him be available then and there? The second, Scudder follows a suspect to his place, then decides to just go to the restaurant under the guy's place and have dinner. What? What was the damn point of either of these? Either have his trailing culminate in a revelation or his dinner in the restaurant spring a clue: don't have both be a waste of the reader's time.
Some people might counter and say that these are blatant attempts by Block at implementing realism into his story: that not everything falls into place as cleanly as they appear to be in other mystery thrillers. My counterarguments would be 1) in a fictional book, pacing is everything, and the principle of Chekhov's Gun applies tendfold and 2) I wouldn't have had a problem with a couple of these being sprinkled throughout the narrative (which has been the case in prior Scudder novels). But no, here there are one too many mundane events that don't mean anything in the grand scheme of things.
The worst of these, by far, is a subplot involving Scudder finding this street urchin named TJ he had met months ago and using him to gather information that he apparently is unable to get himself. For a mystery novel that is all about getting to the bottom of things through investigations, this is a flat-out lazy tactic by Block: having it done off-page by ANOTHER character (he had had Scudder do off-page investigative things in prior books that I didn't like either, but this takes it to a whole 'nother level of dumbness). But here's the best part: NOTHING TJ GETS AMOUNTS TO ANYTHING. That info is at best a useless backstory, and at worst a gigantic waste of pages. Seriously, it doesn't matter what the origin story of one of the victims was because it doesn't help Scudder in any way, shape, or form. The way he finds out is through one of the suspects opting to confess to him. It's so disappointing given past situations of Scudder deducing it all. TJ himself just feels out of place and weirdly juxtaposed into the story. My theory is he was Block's attempt at rectifying having Scudder thrash the boombox kid from A Ticket to the Boneyard.
For all the boredom, I might've considered bumping up Dance to a 2.5/5 had the climax been superb, but no, it's horrendous. Scudder recruits Ballou to do a full-on assault against the perpetrators and commits immoral acts of his own without remorse. It feels like the resolution you'd find in a Jack Reacher novel over a Scudder one. I don't know what Block was thinking, turning his recovering alcoholic PI into a wannabe vigilante.
So yeah, Dance is the first time since Time to the Murder that the Scudder series has had a bad entry. Tying the two mysteries together was slightly contrived on its own, but considering there is no actual putting together of clues to solve it, it's not like either of them matter. Mix this flaw with tedious conversations/observations, sluggish pacing, and a title that doesn't make any sense, and you got yourself a bad story.
There were a few good things here and there. I do think Block does a great job at writing standalone novels whilst still giving enough breadcrumbs to fans who have stayed with the series since the beginning. The inclusion for Chance, for example, was nice: Block gave a quick summary of 8 Million Ways that didn't feel like a dense recap, giving enough information to new readers whilst keeping older fans happy with small developments in his relationship with Scudder. In fact, there are a number of throwbacks to past novels that you will only appreciate if you read those prior entries, but that, if you didn't, don't impede your reading. And considering my hatred of Ballou, it was nice to see Block twice acknowledge that he isn't a good person (Durkin calling him a son of a b*tch, and Ballou admitting he's going to H E double hockeysticks). I also like how Block maintains Scudder's habit of consistently going to AA meetings and reflecting upon missing some.
But unfortunately, none of these counter my aforementioned issues. I think the biggest disappointment is the degradation of Scudder's morality, something that was amazingly set-up in Sins of the Father. I get that characters change, but this aspect of them shouldn't. There were things Scudder did like tithing a church a portion of his payment and lighting candles at the end of his journey for the girl he accidentally killed. Block tries to replace these with giving to the homeless and going to a mass for butchers with Ballou, but the former is inconsistently implemented and the latter feels shallow and disconnected from Scudder personally compared to what he used to do.
I don't know. Like most things, your mileage will ultimately vary. As a longtime reader, all I can say is that I was definitely disappointed.
At the time of this critique, I realize I have not written up reviews of the first 5 novels (I don't believe I had created a Goodreads account at the time), but to give you all a quick recap, the only Scudder book I considered outright bad up to this point was the chronological second one Time to Murder and Create. This was because that book was full of contrivances that made the resolution of the mystery bizarre, and Scudder acted in dumb ways that mad me lose respect for him.
With Dance, not only do we have worse contrivances, we don't even have any type of mystery solving by the esteemed private eye. And it's a shame, because the premise of Scudder trying to find the origins of a snuff film whilst also investigating the murder of a pregnant woman had the potential to be the darkest, most interpersonal entry in the series since 8 Million Ways to Die.
The opening chapter sets the stage for the disappointment that will follow- Scudder and Mick Ballou attending a boxing match. It's boring (a crime for boxing of all sports), pointlessly drawn-out, and only at the very end develops into a decent progressive plot point. These are the biggest issues present throughout Dance: most of the text is full of dull situations that don't amount to anything, and those that do are only marginally good. In addition, Ballou plays perhaps his largest part in a Scudder book since Out on the Cutting Edge, which, as you guys know from my review of A Ticket to the Boneyard, was not welcome: to summarize, I hate the character of Ballou. He's an immoral individual, a mobman and murderer, and his ruminations about life are flat-out annoying to listen to. That Scudder has a strong friendship with him degrades Block's esteemed protagonist.
I'll get back to Ballou later, but he isn't the only one with stories that are interminable. In a lot of ways, Dance feels like Block's attempt at pulling a Cormac McCarthy: creating elongated conversations that are meant to convey some deeper meaning about the human condition, and I just don't think he succeeded here. The tales, individually, are interesting enough, but they lack the metaphorical power he was clearly going for. I wish I could put into words why I feel they failed, but if I were to venture an educated guess, it would be that he goes for too extreme scenarios. One involves the attempted rape of a woman about to die, another a father who viciously beats his pre-adolescent daughter, another a news story about an innocent bystander killed as collateral damage in a shootout, another about kids being turned into sex slaves on the streets, and so forth. I'm not saying these things don't happen or aren't worth examining for the sake of producing some sort of philosophical analysis, but what I am saying is that they all feel too adultish.
In fact, Dance might be the closest Block has come to trying too hard to be edgy. I think he's a talented enough writer to avoid falling into that "grimdark" trap that some authors stumble into when attempting to produce a work for adult audiences, but there's no denying that the premise combined with factoids about said premise combined with the aforestated McCarthy-esque metastories hit that boundary way more than they should.
But I could've easily forgiven all of this had the main narrative been as engaging as it had the potential to be. However, I go back to my original point that most of the book is flat-out boring. Scudder will go and talk to someone and they will produce nothing of value/nothing that leads to him going anywhere. A great example of this is when he goes to meet with Chance to see if the former pimp knows anything about a guy he's looking for: surprise surprise, he doesn't, and their dialogue doesn't amount to anything worth reading.
What's worse is that, all too often, there are instances where he is delayed in an action/attempted convo, with that delay not creating any tension and feeling more like Block was trying to hit a specific word count. Two great examples: Scudder goes to a video store to find out more information on the snuff cassette he has, only for the store owner to say he's too busy and to come back tomorrow. Why not have him be available then and there? The second, Scudder follows a suspect to his place, then decides to just go to the restaurant under the guy's place and have dinner. What? What was the damn point of either of these? Either have his trailing culminate in a revelation or his dinner in the restaurant spring a clue: don't have both be a waste of the reader's time.
Some people might counter and say that these are blatant attempts by Block at implementing realism into his story: that not everything falls into place as cleanly as they appear to be in other mystery thrillers. My counterarguments would be 1) in a fictional book, pacing is everything, and the principle of Chekhov's Gun applies tendfold and 2) I wouldn't have had a problem with a couple of these being sprinkled throughout the narrative (which has been the case in prior Scudder novels). But no, here there are one too many mundane events that don't mean anything in the grand scheme of things.
The worst of these, by far, is a subplot involving Scudder finding this street urchin named TJ he had met months ago and using him to gather information that he apparently is unable to get himself. For a mystery novel that is all about getting to the bottom of things through investigations, this is a flat-out lazy tactic by Block: having it done off-page by ANOTHER character (he had had Scudder do off-page investigative things in prior books that I didn't like either, but this takes it to a whole 'nother level of dumbness). But here's the best part: NOTHING TJ GETS AMOUNTS TO ANYTHING. That info is at best a useless backstory, and at worst a gigantic waste of pages. Seriously, it doesn't matter what the origin story of one of the victims was because it doesn't help Scudder in any way, shape, or form. The way he finds out is through one of the suspects opting to confess to him. It's so disappointing given past situations of Scudder deducing it all. TJ himself just feels out of place and weirdly juxtaposed into the story. My theory is he was Block's attempt at rectifying having Scudder thrash the boombox kid from A Ticket to the Boneyard.
For all the boredom, I might've considered bumping up Dance to a 2.5/5 had the climax been superb, but no, it's horrendous. Scudder recruits Ballou to do a full-on assault against the perpetrators and commits immoral acts of his own without remorse. It feels like the resolution you'd find in a Jack Reacher novel over a Scudder one. I don't know what Block was thinking, turning his recovering alcoholic PI into a wannabe vigilante.
So yeah, Dance is the first time since Time to the Murder that the Scudder series has had a bad entry. Tying the two mysteries together was slightly contrived on its own, but considering there is no actual putting together of clues to solve it, it's not like either of them matter. Mix this flaw with tedious conversations/observations, sluggish pacing, and a title that doesn't make any sense, and you got yourself a bad story.
There were a few good things here and there. I do think Block does a great job at writing standalone novels whilst still giving enough breadcrumbs to fans who have stayed with the series since the beginning. The inclusion for Chance, for example, was nice: Block gave a quick summary of 8 Million Ways that didn't feel like a dense recap, giving enough information to new readers whilst keeping older fans happy with small developments in his relationship with Scudder. In fact, there are a number of throwbacks to past novels that you will only appreciate if you read those prior entries, but that, if you didn't, don't impede your reading. And considering my hatred of Ballou, it was nice to see Block twice acknowledge that he isn't a good person (Durkin calling him a son of a b*tch, and Ballou admitting he's going to H E double hockeysticks). I also like how Block maintains Scudder's habit of consistently going to AA meetings and reflecting upon missing some.
But unfortunately, none of these counter my aforementioned issues. I think the biggest disappointment is the degradation of Scudder's morality, something that was amazingly set-up in Sins of the Father. I get that characters change, but this aspect of them shouldn't. There were things Scudder did like tithing a church a portion of his payment and lighting candles at the end of his journey for the girl he accidentally killed. Block tries to replace these with giving to the homeless and going to a mass for butchers with Ballou, but the former is inconsistently implemented and the latter feels shallow and disconnected from Scudder personally compared to what he used to do.
I don't know. Like most things, your mileage will ultimately vary. As a longtime reader, all I can say is that I was definitely disappointed.