The Last Dance by
Ed McBain
hbk out January 00
Published by Hodder & Stoughton
at £16.99
The Last Dance is the fiftieth entry in Ed McBain's "87th
Precinct" series of police procedurals which began in 1956. That's
right: fifty. Zowie! It is also, I admit with some embarrassment, the
first 87th Precinct book I've ever read. Just one of those things, I
suppose. I always meant to get around to McBain - aka Evan
Hunter, under which name the author has written forty additional
novels - but somehow I never did. (Kind of like Richard
Stark/Donald Westlake. No, really: I'm going to read The
Hunter any day now. Honest.) An editor friend - yes, there really
are such things - recently mentioned that the 87th Precinct books
were central to his initiation into crime fiction as a young teen, but
that he hasn't read one in years because he's afraid of sullying his
fond memories. After reading The Last Dance, I have to tell him
that he's made the correct decision.
It's hard to know how to approach the fiftieth book in a forty-five
year old series. It's a bit like watching a random episode of a long-
running soap opera and expecting to be in touch with what is going
on, or to understand the nuances of the characters and
relationships. Basically, it's not entirely fair. But having said that,
it's impossible to ignore the problem that this book has the feel of
having been left behind by the rest of pop culture. As you'd expect
of a man who's published a hundred books, the writing is slick and
easy and the essence of the thing is professionally crafted.
McBain's dialogue is fresh and crisp and his imaginary city of Isola
feels like a real place. You just know that McBain could draw a
street map for you that would put Rand-McNally to shame. And it
feels slightly churlish to criticize so venerable a genre institution.
But...
The episodic plot, centred around the apparent suicide of an old
man which is, of course, not what it seems, is not especially
engaging. Nor are any of the sub-plots which ultimately feed into
the main story. The whole thing is overly simplistic and
mechanical, like an episode from some mid-seventies cop drama.
I realize that the 87th Precinct books helped forge the template for
most of those TV shows, but that doesn't change the fact that The Last Dance is nowhere near as sophisticated or compelling as
the average episode of NYPD Blue, much less top-drawer stuff
like Homicide: Life On The Street. Even acknowledging that
long-term readers will know and be more involved with the
characters than a tyro, the cops (and bad guys) are simply not
three-dimensional. It's apostasy, I know, but perhaps McBain has
simply been working with some of this material a little bit *too*
long.
Fans of the series will likely enjoy the book. It is worth
repeating that it is a polished and readable piece of work. But as
for jumping on the bandwagon at this late date... either McBain or I
are simply too old. Take your pick.
(
Jay Russell
- one of the greatest talents the horror industry has produced for some time… (Black Tears))
The Last Dance by
Ed McBain