Holy
crap in a Bundt pan...
Due to the
recent well-publicized shortage of
amateur websites produced by assholes who consider themselves to be
clever, I
have been called into action. My name is Jeff Kay, and I’m an
Ugly American living
on the cusp of a mid-life crisis, near Scranton, PA. And I’m here to
serve, baby.
The
State of My Fat Ass A journal of
sorts, updated every once in a while.
--I’m about halfway through a book called The Green Ripper, by John D. MacDonald.It’s
part of the Travis McGee series, something that’s become near and dear
to my big sluggish heart.
McGee is a character created by MacDonald back in 1964, and went on to
star in 21 novels spanning a couple of decades.This is a good summation of it all, and
here’s some stuff about
MacDonald himself.
A few years ago I started reading the books
in order, and I’m almost
to the end.There are only
three left after this one, then there will be no more.
And that makes me sad.
I guess I can start reading them again, and will probably do that, but I
have a feeling it won’t be the same.I envy anyone who hasn’t read them yet, because they’ve still
got 21 to go.And I don’t.
Those books have become comfort food for me.When things get a bit stressful in my life, I often turn to Travis McGee.The man lives on a houseboat in Florida, answers to nobody, gets
himself into (and out of) great adventures, then settles in with a big
glass of gin and a beautiful girl at the end of the day.
He’s the greatest superhero of them all!
In the early books MacDonald describes Travis as a Korean War veteran,
and that always makes me smile.Because
another of my heroes, Phil Hendrie, created a memorable character that
was a Korean War vet, as well.And
the two couldn’t be less alike.Travis
McGee will kick your ass from here to there, then start all over again.
And this is Hendrie’s
Lloyd Bonafide, a complete mess.
MacDonald got his start cranking out pulp fiction, making a living
generating trashy dime novels.I
love the thought of that, it’s a romantic vision.
I picture guys who wouldn’t, or couldn’t, join “the real world,”
sitting in shitty apartments in 1950s Los Angeles.There’s a filterless Chesterfield smoldering in the ash tray,
and an open bottle of cheap whiskey beside the big, black manual
typewriter.He sits there in
his wife-beater, day and night, just knocking out desperate, unlikely stories.
Yeah, most of those guys were hacks, and probably alcoholic as well.But some were really good, and got even better after writing day
and night to earn the rent money.
By
the time MacDonald started the Travis McGee series, in the early 60s,
he’d become very good.There doesn’t seem to be a wasted word in those books, every
letter is important.It’s the
kind of writing that seems simple and easy, and makes amateurs (like me)
believe they can do it too.
And good luck with that, my friend, if you decide to try it.
Just so you know... The Travis McGee books all have a color in the
title, a device many others have loosely (or explicitly) copied, including the woman who writes
all those S is for Shitsack books, or whatever. And the character
Travis McGee was originally supposed to be called Dallas McGee, but the
assassination of JFK was still fresh in everyone's mind, so his name was
changed to Travis.
Also, as odd as it might seem, John D. MacDonald was a close friend
with Dan Rowan, of Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In fame. In fact, a
book of their letters to each other was published in 1986.
Is that not bizarre? I submit that it is. What's next, the J.D.
Salinger/Rip Taylor papers?
Another of the dime novel refugees who started a series later in life, was
CharlesWilleford.He wrote four
Hoke
Moseley novels before he died.Also
really good, and funny too.It’s
a shame Willeford didn’t start the series earlier, or live longer,
because good ol’ fucked-up Hoke was an excellent character.
These are some of the guys I admire.They
didn’t strive to create art, they just did what they did, and did it well.Their stuff is completely free of pretension, and that’s something to
appreciate.Oh, sometimes
pretentious-as-all-hell is fun too, like, say, Radiohead.But it doesn’t really work as comfort food.
I know this one’s a bit different, and I hadn’t intended to go on so
long with it, but that’s the way it happens sometime.
What do you turn to when things get a bit challenging?Besides, of course, your family and religion, and those types of
things.What movies or books or
music, or whatever, has the power to make you feel whole again?Tell us about it, won’t you?
--
, by John D. MacDonald.