I completely share Bill Crider's view of THE RED HOT
TYPEWRITER by Hugh Merrill. This weekend I picked up a copy
at Murder One in London, a great book store, by the
way.
What a disappointment. Yes, the title is terrible but then so
is the entire package with the cover one of the least
attractive JDM publicity photos screened with odd characters
from a typewriter. It is as ugly a book as I've seen in a
while.
Despite the fact that Merrill is now an academic, he spent a
good many years as a reporter before becoming a professor of
journalism. In fact, he used to work at the Atlanta Journal
where I briefly drew a salary. All of this built my
anticipation, as I really expected a good read as well as
insight on MacDonald. With apologies to all the academics out
there, bios by academics can get a bit turgid.
But what do we get? I am afraid the title was a good
indicator. This is a superficial toss-off written in breezy
journalism with absolutely no insight whatsoever. All the
signs are there. To make MacDonald seem "relevant," Merrill
points out that without him novels by Carl Hiaasen and Jimmy
Buffett would not have been possible. Sorry. This does not
overwhelm me with thankfulness.
Merrill did have access to letters and journals and there is
new material here. He processed it with a minimum effort.
There is little analysis of his significance or how he
changed the field. Merrill again did a superficial glance at
the pulp world by reading Gruber's PULP JUNGLE and a few
other primary sources. He does not really discuss with any
understanding Gold Medal or the writers who were part of that
movement. There is no sign that Merrill really cares about
this or that he really cares about MacDonald all that much.
It was an assignment. He came into some new material and he
processed a bit of it and the check cashed. That's the feel
the book has.
The glimpses of MacDonald that do come through are not all
that flattering. I was interested in reading about his
falling out with Borden and Babs Deal, writers who were part
of his Florida social set. There is a very self-righteous
letter to Borden denying an affair with Babs and laying all
the responsibility on her shoulders that is difficult to read
and think well of JDM as a person. Even if his version is the
complete truth, it is hard to justify the tone of that
letter. I think Babs later got him back with a review of one
of his books that makes a very insightful hint that did not
escape JDM's wife. There is also a "tough love" letter to his
sister that is just over the line into the malicious. He
could be a real A-hole. I can understand confronting a sister
with her alcoholism but to write her (in response to asking
his help in getting her husband a job): "First your
face.
It is not any mask of tragedy or anxiety or any product
of age. It is the all-too-typical potato-face, as it is
commonly called, of the self-destructive drinker--lumpy,
rivulated, out of shape and out of focus..."
Thank you brother!
So, yes, this is a disappointing bio and a better one is on
the way. But, you know what? I may not read the next one. I
would rather read and reread JDM's novels and perhaps not
know all that much more about the writer.
Richard Moore
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