When I think of crime fiction in the Fifties, one of the
first authors who comes to mind is Harry Whittington. His novel THE BRASS
MONKEY was published originally by Handi-Books in 1951, and it's one I hadn't
read until now.
THE BRASS MONKEY opens with a scene that's reminiscent of Mickey Spillane: the
narrator, private detective Jim Patterson, is standing in a seedy Honolulu
apartment while the police investigate the death of Patterson's best friend
from back in the States. The cops think it's suicide, but Patterson knows it's
murder and is determined that he's going to find his friend's killer.
But from this point on things take some intriguing twists away from the
Spillane model. Patterson isn't nearly as gung-ho about solving the crime as
Mike Hammer would be. In fact, he sort of resents being drawn into the case.
He'd rather live off the money of his wealthy, high society wife than go around
being a gumshoe. He's a former pulp writer made bitter by an earlier failed
love affair and a half-hearted private eye at best.
Another difference is that Patterson doesn't have a good friend on the police
force like Hammer's buddy Pat Chambers. In fact, the cop investigating his
friend's death actually has a personal reason for hating Patterson, as
Patterson soon discovers.
He's also reluctantly involved in another case, a classic wandering daughter
job that blossoms into a tangled mess involving blackmail, a dope ring, a
beautiful stripper, and another murder for which Patterson is framed. He gets
hit on the head and knocked out, as well as being slipped a mickey later on. He
has to go on the run from the cops while he struggles to find the real killer
and clear his name.
In other words, almost every clichƩ of hardboiled private eye fiction is to be
found in THE BRASS MONKEY, which diminished my utter enjoyment of it not one
little bit. I grinned all the way through this one, it was so much fun. I've
been blessed in that I can put myself into the time period in which a book was
written without much trouble, so I read this with the mindset of a guy who
picked it up at a bus station newsstand in 1951. Also, those plot elements
which seem so overdone to us now were a lot fresher 63 years ago. Already
commonplace, to be sure, but not such blatant clichƩs.
Not only that, but as a protagonist Jim Patterson is a far cry from Mike
Hammer, Shell Scott, Mike Shayne, Johnny Liddell, or any of the other private
eyes of that era. Despite his occupation, he's one of Whittington's brooding
everyman characters, doggedly determined but not the brightest guy in the room
most of the time, basically decent but more than capable of acting like a heel
at times, sympathetic overall but deeply flawed. The Honolulu setting is a nice
touch, too, and is portrayed vividly by Whittington.
I thoroughly enjoyed THE BRASS MONKEY. It's very much of its time, a nasty,
fast-paced slice of crime fiction. And it's available from Prologue Books as an
e-book, which I highly recommend if you're a fan of hardboiled private eye
novels.