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A review by trudilibrarian
Time to Murder and Create by Lawrence Block
4.0
Ahhh, Scudder...I have a bone to pick with you. Why you wanna hurt me so bad?
More on that in just a bit, first just a little note on the numbering of these early Scudder books. Feel free to skip this paragraph which cuts right to the nerd in me. I tend to be a tad OCD when I take on any series, and always want to read them in order. Goodreads has this book listed as #2 which turns out to be correct. In the afterword Block explains that Time to Murder and Create is the second Scudder book he wrote, but it was the third to be published. If I had been going by another source (like the Great and Terrible Wikipedia), I would have read In the Midst of Death second (when it's actually third). OCD, I know, I know, considering all the books were written very close together in the same year and don't spoil each other in any way, but still. Now I know I've read the books in the order which the author intended. Somebody give this girl a cookie to make her shut up already.
On to the review. Time to Murder has all the good stuff I've already come to expect. First and foremost great, snappy dialogue that's sharp and sexy. There's no flowery language here, no overly complicated metaphors. Scudder's world is populated by New Yorkers who have seen more of the underbelly and bottom-feeding side of humanity than they care to recount. Blunt and direct is the catch of the day. That's not to say some wordplay is entirely absent. Scudder can be a cheeky bastard when he wants to be, especially when anyone is trying to put the squeeze on him. I like the way he talks to the ladies too, the ones he likes, and the ones he's wary of. Buy me a gin and tonic and light up my Marlboro, Matt, I'd shoot the shit with you til the bar closed any time. I'd even let you walk me home afterwards.
The mystery is a bit meatier this time around than the one introduced in Sins of the Fathers. Matt finds himself investigating three victims of blackmail who are desperate to keep their secrets. One of them has had enough and murders the blackmailer holding all the cards. That would be low-life Spinner Jablon, who ends up with his head caved in and his body dumped in the East River. Low-life though he may be, he was smart enough to leave all the juicy details to Scudder in a sealed envelope (which Scudder is not to open unless Spinner winds up in the morgue). When that day arrives, Scudder is on the case and uses himself as the bait. I love the unintended consequences that arise as Scudder quietly and diligently goes about his unconventional investigation. Nothing is ever as simple as it seems, and that goes double for Scudder's emotions and reactions.
Here's the thing: Scudder is no saint, nor does he pretend to be. But he's one of the good guys always trying to do the right thing, whatever that might be. It's not always clear though, especially if you're a live and let live kind of guy. Scudder doesn't suffer from a self-righteous arrogance, or a moral certainty of what's right and wrong. The only real crime in Scudder's books (that I can see so far) is murder. You can steal, lie, prostitute yourself, blackmail, extort, bribe, whatever, and he'll shrug and look the other way. It's your business. But intentionally with malice aforethought take the life of another human being? Not on his watch.
I like that. I like that even in this Scudder doesn't suffer from hubris:
I'm still with you though, Scudder. We just have a little making up to do.
More on that in just a bit, first just a little note on the numbering of these early Scudder books. Feel free to skip this paragraph which cuts right to the nerd in me. I tend to be a tad OCD when I take on any series, and always want to read them in order. Goodreads has this book listed as #2 which turns out to be correct. In the afterword Block explains that Time to Murder and Create is the second Scudder book he wrote, but it was the third to be published. If I had been going by another source (like the Great and Terrible Wikipedia), I would have read In the Midst of Death second (when it's actually third). OCD, I know, I know, considering all the books were written very close together in the same year and don't spoil each other in any way, but still. Now I know I've read the books in the order which the author intended. Somebody give this girl a cookie to make her shut up already.
On to the review. Time to Murder has all the good stuff I've already come to expect. First and foremost great, snappy dialogue that's sharp and sexy. There's no flowery language here, no overly complicated metaphors. Scudder's world is populated by New Yorkers who have seen more of the underbelly and bottom-feeding side of humanity than they care to recount. Blunt and direct is the catch of the day. That's not to say some wordplay is entirely absent. Scudder can be a cheeky bastard when he wants to be, especially when anyone is trying to put the squeeze on him. I like the way he talks to the ladies too, the ones he likes, and the ones he's wary of. Buy me a gin and tonic and light up my Marlboro, Matt, I'd shoot the shit with you til the bar closed any time. I'd even let you walk me home afterwards.
The mystery is a bit meatier this time around than the one introduced in Sins of the Fathers. Matt finds himself investigating three victims of blackmail who are desperate to keep their secrets. One of them has had enough and murders the blackmailer holding all the cards. That would be low-life Spinner Jablon, who ends up with his head caved in and his body dumped in the East River. Low-life though he may be, he was smart enough to leave all the juicy details to Scudder in a sealed envelope (which Scudder is not to open unless Spinner winds up in the morgue). When that day arrives, Scudder is on the case and uses himself as the bait. I love the unintended consequences that arise as Scudder quietly and diligently goes about his unconventional investigation. Nothing is ever as simple as it seems, and that goes double for Scudder's emotions and reactions.
Here's the thing: Scudder is no saint, nor does he pretend to be. But he's one of the good guys always trying to do the right thing, whatever that might be. It's not always clear though, especially if you're a live and let live kind of guy. Scudder doesn't suffer from a self-righteous arrogance, or a moral certainty of what's right and wrong. The only real crime in Scudder's books (that I can see so far) is murder. You can steal, lie, prostitute yourself, blackmail, extort, bribe, whatever, and he'll shrug and look the other way. It's your business. But intentionally with malice aforethought take the life of another human being? Not on his watch.
I like that. I like that even in this Scudder doesn't suffer from hubris:
"I don't know if human life is sacred. I just don't like murder, and that bothers me, and there's just one thing I'm going to do about it. I don't want to kill you, I don't want to expose you...I'm sick of playing an incompetent version of God."And that almost makes it okay for me to swallow the fact that
Spoiler
Scudder is willing to let a pedophile -- a rapist of children -- basically walk away scot-free with his dirty little secrets in tact. I'm trying to look at this through a 1970's lens and give it some context. While distasteful, was it pretty much acceptable to bugger young boys (landing one of them in the hospital from internal injuries) forty years ago? Is it unfair to let my 21st century knee-jerk repulsion inform how to react here? I thought for sure Scudder would have something appropriately nasty and poetic planned for Huysendahl whether he turned out to be behind Spinner's murder or not. Getting him to write a ten thousand dollar check to Boys Town is not what I had in mind. At all. But Scudder has never proclaimed to be a crusader for the protection of children nor does he see himself as a force to prevent the corruption and theft of innocence. But it sticks me where it hurts. I'm choking on it. I guess for me, there is something as bad as premeditated murder, and that's rape.I'm still with you though, Scudder. We just have a little making up to do.