I was a weird teenager.
No, really.
From the time I could read (and talk my mom into taking me to the public library), I went through seriously intense book adoration phases. I didn’t just read a book on a topic or “like” an author…I devoured everything to do with said topic or said author. And I seriously mean EVERYTHING. Did you know that Louis L’Amour wrote over 120 books? I read every single one of them when I was fifteen (and no offense to Mr. L’Amour, but quite a few of them are essentially the same story with different characters).
My interests were far reaching (as evidenced by my foray into cowboy literature read primarily by middle-aged men) and literally knew no bounds.
One of those phases was a Mickey Spillane one. And I don’t mean just the Mike Hammer books either. My two favorites, that I read and re-read until they were dogeared beyond recognition (and I still own, by the way…I couldn’t get rid of the ratty old paperbacks even now, not even when I had to purge over half my book collection when we moved to London) were The Deep and The Delta Factor.
Why?
I don’t really know. Goodness knows they are rife with violence and have, ahem, antiquated & stereotypical views of women (to say the least). Would I recommend that thirteen and fourteen year olds pick them up and read them like I did? Eh, I dunno. Of course, in today’s world, the violence in them seems really quaint compared to the majority of the movies and TV shows that we all watch on a daily basis.
There was just something about them. Something primal. And fast, lordy, they were fast reads. They are slim volumes, probably half the size of the books that I write (and I write for teens, which historically have been shorter than adult novels…okay, unless you’re J. K. Rowling or Robert Jordan or Stephenie Meyer). I could read them in about an hour. And I did. One after the other, like so much literary candy.
In fact, sitting here typing this…I really wish I had those books in front of me right now (our stuff is still in storage in Chicago).
What books do that for you? Take you away, wring you out, and bring you back?
If you’re wondering why I was thinking about this today, it’s because I posted up a “new” free short story for download (One of the Boys) and it’s one I wrote years ago during a Spillane-ish writing phase. I even found a home for it (which was hard, since noir-ish fiction hasn’t really been in demand for a long while) at Hardboiled magazine back in 2004. Reading it again brought it all back to me.
Man, just looking through potential cover images over at iStockPhoto was like a blast from the past. There are some amazing photos over there (just look up noir). I finally settled on this one guy because I liked the craggy lines of his face, even though the main character in the story probably has a much weaker chin (he’s that kind of guy).
Anyway, any Spillane or Hammett fans out there?
I love that you devoured all the L’Amour books when you were 15. I went through a Pronzini phase where I devoured all his Nameless detective novels plus all his other standalone novels. I was so into it I felt I was Nameless. I’m currently in an LA Noir phase. For some reason, I’m drawn to the anonymous seedy dark underbelly of city life.
I think a lot of people go through those phases (and some psychologists would probably find connections to how the world is going or something like that). I was wishing for some Spillane the other day! Of course, the “seedy underbelly” back then was a little simpler and more straightforward…
I also went through an Ian Fleming/James Bond phase! Much darker than the movies! Oh, yeah, and Remo Williams too!
I fondly remember my Ian Fleming phase. I was surprised how good they were. Richard Stark’s Parker novels are also a great dark guilty pleasure. I’m going to find some vintage Spillane to enjoy in the near future.