Thu 6 Jun 2013
JONATHAN VALIN – The Lime Pit. Dodd Mead, hardcover, 1980. Avon, paperback, 1981. Dell, paperback, 1994.
Somehow Sherlock Holmes is seldom if ever thought of as a private detective. He seems instead to be intellectually above all that, while of course in reality he was never averse to receiving a fee for his services. And so the fact remains that investigators-for-hire have been around for nearly as long as there’s been mystery fiction. It wasn’t until Dashiell Hammett came along, however, with his Sam Spade, the Continental Op and other detectives, that the private eye story was brought down to street level where it belongs, so to speak.
In degrees of depravity and perversity, here is a book tougher and rougher than any of Hammett’s, by far, but of course you do have to realize that this is several generations of consciousness-raising later. Some of the scenes that occur in the course of Harry Stoner’s search for a missing girl would undoubtedly make a Marquis de Sade at least momentarily queasy.
Nor is Valin the new Raymond Chandler — the first chapter in particular seems desperately overwritten — but as a more than capable wordsmith he learns quickly. Once begun it’s easy to find yourself vicariously trapped in the grimier depths of Cincinnati’s dingier sections, uncovering with private eye Stoner a hidden underground world of predatory sex and bloodseeking violence.
Stoner is hired by a dirty old man whose 16-year-old living companion has run away. He has pictures of her, of the kind not sold under counters, but in back rooms only. Harry fears the worst.
As a rescuer, Stoner is deliberately not cast in the Travis McGee philosophy/fantasy mold. The job is hopeless, and he knows it, yet he’s idealist enough to continue hunting for those responsible for whatever’s happened to Cindy Ann. His romantic liaison with a waitress named Jo is enjoyable, but it is not likely to continue with the success that Robert Parker’s Spenser has found with Susan Silverman.
The key intended here instead is realism. The activities taking place in The Lime Pit may not always be wholly appetizing, but they are morbidly fascinating. And while Harry Stoner may be the consummate iconoclast in many regards, he’s still a superb example of the closest thing we have today to a knight in shining armor.
Rating: A minus.
Vol. 4, No. 4, July-August 1980 (slightly revised). This review also appeared earlier in the Hartford Courant.
Editorial Comment: My review of Final Notice, which you can find here on this blog, includes more discussion of the author and a complete list of the Harry Stoner books, of which The Lime Pit was the first.
June 6th, 2013 at 3:38 pm
It’s fun reading Steve’s review from 33 years ago. But then I looked in my copy and see that I also reviewed it back in October 1980. My note says:
“First in Harry Stoner, PI series. Stoner is interesting but too much of a bleeding heart. Hard to believe his continued interest in an old man, who can’t even pay his fee, and a teenage hooker that he never met. Also impossible to believe he would show up at the villain’s request and almost get himself killed. Still–a likable character and I’ll read more in this series.”
If I gave it a letter grade, I’d say it was a solid “B”. I see that my copy is a first edition that might be worth something except I stuck a newspaper review of the novel inside and the acidity of the cheap newsprint turned the page brown.
I’ve always liked to stick notes inside the novels I read plus newspaper reviews, letters, etc. I see this novel has correspondence from Otto Penzler to me, dated November 7, 1980. It says:
“Dear Walker,
Many thanks for your note and your order. I hope you enjoy the Lyons book.
If I can help with anything else(in or out of print), please let me know. The new books by Jonathan Valin, for instance, are tremendous–best hard-boiled novelist in the past couple of years, ahead even of Fred Zackel, if you ask me. (signed, Otto Penzler).”
Some things never change. Otto is still at it, Steve Lewis is still reviewing, and I’m still reading and scribbling notes to myself.
June 6th, 2013 at 6:07 pm
In 1980, I finished my compulsory military service, and in October started Law School.
Long time ago .
The Doc
June 6th, 2013 at 9:10 pm
Who might there have been 33 years ago who might have thought I’d still be publishing reviews today? I might have, if someone had asked, but no one did, and I don’t think the idea ever occurred to me. The idea of doing it on something called the Internet and a “blog” certainly didn’t!
Otto mentioned Fred Zackel in his note to you, Walker. He was really a hot and up-and-coming mystery writer back then, but he managed to write only two novels, Cocaine and Blue Eyes (1978) and Cinderella After Midnight (1980), both starring a private eye based in San Francisco named Michael Brennan.
A famous quote by Ross Macdonald about Zackel goes something like (well, exactly like) this:
“Fred Zackel’s first novel reminds me of the young Dashiell Hammett’s work, not because it is an imitation, but because it is not. It is a powerful and original book made from the lives and language of the people who live in San Francisco today.â€
I’m fairly sure I read the first one; the seoond one I’m not so sure about. I think I’ll go see if I can’t find my copy.
June 6th, 2013 at 9:16 pm
Doc
Somehow (I don’t know how) I got the impression that you were a doctor.
June 6th, 2013 at 10:02 pm
I’ve read several books in this series and found them all pretty good. Valin captures a lot of the feel of Cincinnati in the 1980’s.
June 7th, 2013 at 2:21 am
No, Steve,I am not a member of the medical profession, but a lawyer.
I am, as I think everbody with a body should be, quite interested in matters medical, but, unlike Sir Henry Merrivale, I am not a doctor of both, law and medicine, that is.
Only of law.
The Doc
June 7th, 2013 at 8:33 pm
I remember reading this title when it first came out, and read Valin’s next books up until the last two.
June 7th, 2013 at 9:04 pm
Scott
That’s probably a pattern followed by a lot of readers with a lot of authors, It’s often not so much that you get tired of an author, but that there’s always a another new phenom who comes along to capture your attention.