5 out of 5

HCC-022

Well.  We all know Donald Westlake – writing here as Richard Stark – is a genius, so no need to wax on about that.  It is ridiculous how seemingly casually he can scribe these lessons in compact, effective crime or noir, ‘Lemons’ landing in the earlier third of his oeuvre and part of the Alan Grofield – an associate of Parker’s – series.  The title is a reference to an all-lemons draw in slots, something Grofield pulls on his traditional singular gamble after landing in the Vegas airport for a potential job, and suggests unluckiness.  It’s a wonderfully brief intro to set the tone – a couple spies the nickels the lemons produce and can’t believe Alan’s luck, Alan walking away from the reward as he thinks of it “as dues” while the couples gets sucked into playing the machine for more – and, based on that same response, a slick way of showing us Grofield’s stoic and patient code.  Alan is an actor first, crook second, the back-up job used to pay for the first when necessary, as he prefers to fund his own theater.  So he can somewhat afford to be picky with his jobs, and decides to walk away from the one in Vegas, an insane venture planned by an eccentric dude named Myers.  But, as the gloriously pulpy summary on the back of the HCC edition highlights: “You don’t walk out on Myers…”

And thereafter we get a sober revenge tale.  Sober in that Grofield is sensible and logical in his reactions: he walks out on Myers; Myers hits back.  He walks away from that with a shake of his head… and is only pushed into action when further, unwarranted retaliation occurs.  To pad things in the middle of the book (and to give Grofield a reason to be away from home, a necessary device for what later occurs), we get a fun and primely detailed heist but, just as with that opening bit, it’s not a simple distraction: we’re still learning about Grofield’s intelligence and patience, and how that rubs up against Myers’ impulsiveness, which is appropriately frightening.  ‘Lemons’ can be criticized for treating Grofield’s wife, Mary, a bit too simply, perhaps, and glossing over something horrible that happens to her, but at the same time, she’s not simple, just her role in the book is, and that something horrible could also be said to be treated like off-camera violence: non-exploitative.  Grofield’s and Mary’s responses do seem appropriate for their character types, it’s just questionable tossing that as ‘icing’ onto the need for revenge.

And then I’ll gloss over it in this review.  Because it’s only from an external analysis that that nit comes into contemplation; otherwise, the book is a fantastically involving read, rippling with the reality and commodity for which Westlake is rightly celebrated.