Neanderpundit

Again, rarely does a totally unknown (well, to me) author come along and give me such pause.

I like the book, the wife has now read Black Echo, and she concurs. The bottomline, is, Harry Bosch is a Man. No, not a metrosexual sensitive alan alda type, but a Man. The book is full of Harry being a Man. He tags a coroner in his stilt home on a mountainside, and as she’s showering him out of her, he rolls over and telephones a newspaper reporter with something she told him more or less in the throes of passion. He crosses the border into mexico, armed, prepared to take on the mexican mafia. He pulls the trigger on a colleague, because it is the right thing to do at the time. He leaves a body to decompose, unfound, in a remote location because no other solution will do.

I like men who do what must be done and to hell with the consequences. I’ve known men like that. My father was a man like that. Men who wear Old Spice and shave with straight razors, or big double edged adjustables that use the same blades you use to scrape the paint off the windows. Harry Bosch is that kind of man, and the kind of gritty world he lives in is nice to peer into and see how things were when men wore hats, and women had curves. Unfortunately for Harry these stories are set in the late 90’s so he is an anachronisim. And he makes it look easy and clean, and you wish you were him. Well, I do. Read the book, you’ll like it.

I spend more time removing spam than I do writing here. maybe I should let a guest spammer write a post once in a while.

Ok, not such a good idea.

Steve H, easily the most amusing writer in the blogosphere, who excels at making people everywhere hate him, has finally used up his old domain. Thanks to all Og readers for making sure that money didn’t go to waste.

Now, he’s complaining about his lack of readerships, so make sure you update your links. Also, he’s apparently suggesting that we all show up for a barbecue. I’m bringing potato salad, which he’ll like because it uses bacon grease. I may also bring a jell-o mold, just because. No, I wouldn’t touch the shit myself, I’ve seen it made.