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Is THIS the greatest opening to a crime novel of all time?
Yes, in fact, it is. And James Crumley wrote it.
October 12, 2019, would have been writer James Crumley’s 80th birthday had he lived to see it. He died in 2008. Long before then, his books had developed not only a cult following but critical acclaim as well, and today, they still don’t have the recognition they have long deserved. I don’t remember when I found Crumley, or how. He was probably referenced somewhere when I moved to Montana on a list of Montana writers or perhaps on a list of crime writers everyone should know. Either way, it would have been around the time of his passing in 2008. I also started to go deep into Mystery/Crime/Thriller writing, seeking mentors in text at that time. I found myself a copy of The Last Good Kiss right away at a defunct paperback exchange, and branched out from there, picking up copies of any of his books I found at used book shops whenever I found them.
Crumley liked long openings. His sentences are lush, but not long. There’s something of Steinbeck, even Faulkner in there, but not ponderous. Every bit as “Masculine” as Hemingway, but without the fragility of a man both attracted to women and repelled by them for their inherent threat to that sense of masculinity. I don’t tire of Crumley. I can get hungover with him, though.
