Elmore Leonard — The Blank Page

You know you’re living your best life when you step up to the bookshelf to try and pick a new book and find yourself asking ‘Elmore Leonard or P.G. Wodehouse?’. Well, maybe not your best life. But it’s a very good one. Honest. The reading is certainly good.

I started my P.G. journey with Jeeves and Wooster, thanks to the collections released by Hutchinson back in the late 90s. I picked the first couple with a rabid desire to devour them all, only I hit a tiny, tiny snag. Just a minor one, really. And it’s a snag that I guess no self-respecting reader should ever admit to anyone. So, here goes…the TV show was too good. Yup, you heard me. Welcome to the first world problems of a forty something, white, straight, English man. Do I read my next Elmore Leonard or my next P.G. Wodehouse book? Do I keep reading a book when the TV show with Fry and Laurie in has burned itself permanently onto my brain? I know, I know. Things are tough all over, right?

Pagan Babies by Elmore Leonard

Some writers just appear effortless. Neil Gaiman, when he’s firing on all cylinders, can make you believe he’s plucking some grand, modern fantasy out of mid-air before your eyes. Stephen King seems to have access to a well of stories which feel like they’ve been around forever, just waiting to be told, before he filters them through a riff he’s been building his entire career. The one who always amazes me with how smooth and focused his prose can be, however, is Elmore Leonard. My god, Elmore Leonard could write a good story. His work, when it’s on form, shares something with bottled lightning. It won’t be a few pages past the cover before you find your nerves singing, a spent cork in your hand, and your hair standing on end.

Heat 2 by Michael Mann and Meg Gardiner

Yes, okay, you caught me. I was one of those kids. The ones going around quoting Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction. I’m sorry. I’m not proud of it. I told people to give Jackie Brown another try. I defended Narc a lot. I said people should try Things to Do in Denver When You’re Dead when they’re in the right mood and listened to certain soundtracks to the point where my friends might’ve tried to hide them.

Me and my tribe back then laughed a bit too loud when Doug Liman does the sly little nod to the Goodfellas tracking shot in Swingers, after they’ve already talked about it. We gave each other knowing looks during Get Shorty. We were Miramax kids, before we knew exactly what had been going on there. We liked our crime movies slick and fast talking and we kept a close eye out for names like Elmore Leonard, even if occasionally meant we got something fairly low rate on our screens.

Stuck on the Slow Train

Some weeks, you just can’t win. It’s not right, it’s not fair. They're the horrendous traffic jam when you're already late. They're the one email or customer that is going to totally derail your plans to get through Monday unscathed. The large, slow moving spider that appears as the shampoo starts to sting your eyes. It’s basically some sort of event horizon conjured by statistics and chance.