Walter Mosely is a commercial detective novelist. I’m reading his stuff. I had not done so before, because while I’d tried earlier to read it I felt I did not like it. Anyway, I am enjoying one book of his now in which his hero, Leonid McGill, estranged from his communist dad, says everybody mostly lies and this also applies (mostly) to Mosely’s man McGill, who also lies. He is the hero and he mostly lies.
The protagonist’s father was a communist, and McGill was a boxer. And, in fact he was a bad guy, did bad things, then he turned good. So he cannot really get over his past completely. Mosely’s talent such as it is is that he strings all this together believably. McGill frequently has recollections of dad’s words of wisdom even though he mostly hates his dad, who left him by going to South America for revolution then did not ever come back. (Oh, and my dad was a boxer.)
McGill’s life reminds me of my own. It’s a nonstop adventure. I read it not because it is great literature but to ground myself. (Wide Sargasso Sea, by Jean Rhys is great literature. Mosely not so much.) This character created by novelist Walter Mosely reminds me of who I am: a tough guy, somebody who has regular brushes with death, every day and sometimes has to beat people up or even fire a shot, narrowly missing the person but thereby gaining compliance with the master plan that will ultimately bring down the evil billionaire (it’s all in the book; I am telling the truth!).
It’s a constant adventure. Just like my own life. I was a musician, now I am a writer, I was home-less . . . No aking that up.
Then again, I suppose you could — but nobody has done that and so I have to read Mosely’s books to ground myself. I am getting near finishing it and I never do that with books.
Mosely’s books set in New York may not be real life but if they are not why is it so close to my own?