Disposable Lit Reviews

G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 2005
295 pp.
ISBN 0-399-15323-3

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It’s pretty much undisputed that Robert B. Parker has become a sloppy novelist, especially where his Spenser novels are concerned. Some people mark the downturn from the point at which he started using pithy little one- or two-word titles instead of literary allusions; one of my friends puts the dividing line clear back during that short period when Spenser and his lady Susan Silverman were separated in the early ’80’s. Wherever you decide to mark the crest of the curve, we can all agree that for the last several years, Parker’s flagship Spenser novels have been retreads, throwing bunches of familiar elements into slightly different patterns in support of plots which show, even moreso than the used to, the “make it up as he goes along” style of storytelling to which Parker has always subscribed.

Doesn’t mean I’ll stop reading them. Sitting down with a Spenser novel is like hanging out with an old friend who’s manner is so familiar that there are no surprises to be had no matter how long we talk, but whose presence is welcome nonetheless.

I’ve heard many readers familiar with Parker’s novels express boredom with and general distaste for Susan Silverman, which strikes me as almost bizarre; Spenser’s psychiatric paramour has been a part of the series since the second novel, God Save the Child, waaaay back in 1974. I can understand not liking Susan — she’s way too priincessy to be appealing to me — but to complain about her as if she were an unwanted presence in an otherwise palatable book is like enjoying the Sherlock Holmes mysteries all except for that annoying Dr. Watson. At any rate, School Days is a largely Susan-free novel, taking place while she’s participating in a conference and seminar course out of state for several weeks. It’s also a Hawk-free novel, which should appeal to those of who complain about the cutesy buddy-buddy factor of Spenser’s longtime friendship with the “civilized savage” hitman.

In their place, since Spenser can’t really function in a world without his network of acquaintances, is Rita Fiore, the hot attorney who’s been good-naturedly trying to score with Spenser for far too long. And Pearl the Wonder Dog, of course, who fulfills the “conversant to bounce ideas off” function that Susan usually plays. Except Pearl doesn’t say anything, of course.

The plot? Oh yeah, that. “Ripped from the headlines,” as they say; Spenser is hired by the rich grandmother of a school shooting suspect to clear him of a massacre undertaken at a private academy. Problem is, there are about a thousand witnesses, and both the grandson and his partner admitted to it. Which means that to find out if there’s anything to the grandmother’s assurance of innocence, Spenser has to fall back on his specialized tactics: Annoying people in power until something shakes loose.

Fine and good, except that, even in the post-Columbine world where school shootings are, like, so last decade, there’s very little media circus surrounding the case. Spenser doesn’t even recognize the names or places at first, and the shootings took place within an hour of his apartment. And the detail that snapped my suspension of disbelief: The defense attorney for the grandson is the former frat brother to the accused’s father — an attorney who normally specializes in estate planning. Now, I’m not an attorney, but I do have some familiarity with the legal profession, and the idea that a sole practitioner who specializes in estate work would even undertake a criminal case — much less a high-profile case involving multiple murders — is absolutely ludicrous. Parker doesn’t do second drafts; if he had, that idea would have gone right out the window.

Later on, there’s a howler which probably prompted less disbelief only because I was still numb from that first one: The accused, an upperclassman at an expensive prep academy, doesn’t own a computer. This novel is copyright 2005, but we’re supposed to accept the idea that a student at an upper-class private institution gearing its students toward Ivy League schools could accomplish his coursework without a computer. (No internet connection? That I could possibly swallow, depending on the parents. But no computer at all? Absolutely implausible.)

Because this is a Spenser novel, there will be revelations of multiple passions and hangups, and Spenser will have the occasion both to make use of his many connections in local law enforcement and to make both underworld thugs and a local police chief look foolish. And there will be much smartmouthery, which is really the main plus this series has over Parker’s other novels. It is, admittedly, a better novel than the last Spenser novel I read, the vaguely Enron-esque Bad Business (2004), whose plot eventually renders the initial premise nonsensical.

Even a bad Spenser novel is a good read; I just hope the the substandard entries don’t crowd out the good ones by such a margin that I forget how good the good ones were.