Skip to main content

The Late Show

 Some writers just "speak your language." I think Michael Connelly is almost incapable of being dull.

"The Late Show," a novel from a few years ago, has three crazy stories. In one, a car salesman assaults a victim in his "upside-down house," a house with the bedrooms in the lower levels, below the kitchen and dining room. It's the phrase "upside-down house" that leads to a break in the case.

In a second story, a bad cop murders an informant who is wearing a wire. An observer understands that a wire was involved--because of the particular scar on the corpse's chest. This is a scar you get only when the battery from your "wire contraption" becomes overheated.

And--third--a man commits robberies with a stolen gun. The theft of the gun was never reported because--earlier--that same gun had been used in a double-murder. A thief is bad; a two-time killer is worse. It's the thief who "saves the day."

Michael Connelly is inspired by the painting "The Garden of Earthly Delights," which seems to be an endless vision of unusual characters. In "The Late Show," you have a thug hiding in "the Batcave," an actual cave in L.A. where climactic moments from TV's "Batman" were once filmed. You have fluffers, porn-star snack tables, and a producer named "Stormy Monday." You have a homeless detective who works all night--"the late show"--then sleeps in a tent on the beach, near her surfboard.

I'm always learning from Connelly; I can't wait for the final season of "Bosch"; and I'm curious about the Bosch/Honey spin-off down the road. (And the next Connelly novel will be a kind of sequel to "The Late Show"--happening some time before Christmas.)
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...
3 comments
Read more

Joshie

  When I was growing up, a class birthday involved Hostess cupcakes. Often, the cupcakes would come in a shoebox, so you could taste a leathery residue (during the party). Times change. You can't bring a treat into a public school, in 2024, because heaven knows what kind of allergies might lurk, in unseen corners, in the classroom. But Joshua's teacher will allow: a dance party, a pajama day, or a guest reader. I chose to bring a story for Joshua's birthday (observed), but I didn't think through the role that anxiety might play in this interaction. We talk, in this house, quite a bit about anxiety; one game-changer, for J, has been a daily list of activities, so that he knows exactly what to expect. He gets a look of profound satisfaction when he sees the agenda; it doesn't really matter what the specific events happen to be. It's just about knowing, "I can anticipate X, Y, and Z." Joshua struggled with his celebration. He wore his nervousness on his f...
2 comments
Read more

Josh at Five

 Joshie's project is "flexibility"; the goal is to see that a plan is just an idea, not a gospel, not a guarantee. This is difficult. Yesterday, we went to a restaurant--billed as "open," with unlocked doors--and the owner informed us of an "error in advertising." But Joshie couldn't accept the word "closed." He threw himself on the floor, then climbed on the furniture. I felt for the owner, until he nervously made a reference to "the glass windows." He imagined that my child might toss himself through a sealed window, like Mary Katherine Gallagher, or like Bruce Willis, in "Die Hard." Then--thank the Lord!--I was able to laugh. The thing that really has therapeutic value for Joshie is: a firetruck. If we are out in public, and he spots a parked truck, he wants to climb on each surface. He breathlessly alludes to the wheels, the door, the windows. If an actual fire station ("fire ocean," in Joshie's parla...
Post a Comment
Read more