In 2016, I happened upon an omnibus of novels by Charles Willeford, thought the title of the last entry looked interesting, bought it, read aforementioned last entry, liked it, read the other three novels in he omnibus, liked them, and was off and running.
In fact, of the 100 books I read in 2016, 20 of them * were Willeford books. And I had to quit there, because even though there were six more books published, none of them were available for less than $100 a pop. But in July 2018, HARD CASE CRIME published one of those six: Understudy For Death. (I even had a little something to do with that, which you can read about HERE.) But I didn't buy it when it came out. For one thing, I was off on other author binges. For another thing, the last Willeford books I'd read had been pretty bad. And for a third thing, I'd had an interaction (via this blog) with one of Willeford's people that seemed unnecessarily mean on her part, so I was just kind of over the whole thing.
But I recently saw that the Louisville Free Public Library had a copy of Understudy For Death, so I decided to have a look. As often happens, I'm sorry to say, after I checked it out it sat around the house for almost three weeks without me opening it. But Louisville must have another Willeford fan, because when I went to renew it, I saw that I could not do so--because someone else had requested it. So with two days before it was due, I bore down on it. Read about fifty pages the day before it was due, and about one hundred and fifty on Due Day.
It wasn't easy, though.
Because...and I do hate to say this...Understudy For Death was a wretched novel. I fully understand why it was out of print for 60 years. I don't understand why HARD CASE CRIME brought it back to life. If you love Charles Willeford...and I most certainly do...then you don't want to read this book. It is very poorly written, for one thing. It is ostensibly "about" a newspaperman who is kind of sort of investigating a murder / suicide...but at no point is this "investigation" believable. In addition, that newspaperman, who is the main character, is an absolute asshole. He (1) rapes his wife when she doesn't want to have sex with him, (2) cheats on his wife, (3) bosses his wife around as if she is his slave, (4) gets angry when his wife takes a part in a local play and writes a review of the play in which he derides her performance as "adequate"...even though he and everyone else knows that she was really good, and (5) ignores and / or abuses his son. He also just makes dick moves, such as smoking a cigarette in church, barging into a doctor's office (and then lighting up there as well). And if that's not bad enough, there's also a scene wherein another character refers to one of his employees as a "nigger" and then proceeds to fire said employee because he asks if the employer provides a pension plan. (How DARE he.)
And beyond the offensiveness, the thing is just so ineptly written. As just one for instance, the investigation? Never goes anywhere. You never find out why the woman killed her kids and herself.
If you're a Willeford fan, this book will damage your love for him. If you've never read Willeford before and start with this one, you'll never read another.
In fact, with 5 unread Willefords left to me, I'm thinking that it'd be best to just avoid those titles if they ever see the light of day. I want to keep my love and respect for his writing intact, and I don't know if I can take another hit like this one. Like the bird said, "Leave well enough alone." Right?
Right.
* 61. The Machine in Ward Eleven
62. The Woman Chaser
63. Cockfighter
64. The Burnt Orange Heresy
67. The Second Half of the Double Feature
69. High Priest of California
70. Wild Wives
71. Pick-Up
72. The Black Mass of Brother Springer
73. Writing and Other Blood Sports (includes New Forms of Ugly: The Immobilized Hero in Modern Fiction)
74. Whip Hand
75. Sideswipe
77. Miami Blues
78. New Hope for the Dead
79. The Way We Die Now
80. The Shark-Infested Custard
81. I Was Looking for a Street
82. Something About a Soldier
84. The Difference
85. Made in Miami by Charles Willeford
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