R.I.P. James Crumley

Damn it. I had to find out he'd died through Face­book. Not that I want­ed a direct line, but you hate to hear about death that way, a casu­al note from peo­ple who knew him per­son­al­ly, espe­cial­ly when he loomed pret­ty large in your writ­ing life. Here's one remem­brance.

As that linked remem­brance says, you can go along way toward learn­ing to hook a read­er by read­ing his open­ings, and his open­ing sen­tences in par­tic­u­lar. My favorite books include The Last Good Kiss and the Mex­i­can Tree Duck. If you think Den­nis Lehane's stuff is cool (and it is) and maybe you also like the coun­try noir stylings of Give Us a Kiss-era Daniel Woodrell, you can do no bet­ter than going to their dad­dy or grand­dad­dy, James Crum­ley. Take my word for it.

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