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A review by jakewritesbooks
An Honest Living by Dwyer Murphy
3.0
Whew this is rough.
I got hyped for this book just by reading the blurb. A literary mystery in mid-aughts NYC? Rock on, brother. And then I read interviews by Dwyer Murphy and got even more pumped. His favorite authors are my favorite authors and his views on crime fiction nine.
And THEN some favorite writers blurbed it, including dropping a Chinatown reference to the plot. So…this rocked right? Yes?
Sigh.
On some level, I’m sure folks will appreciate the metatextual commentary on the genre and the constant vomiting of literary references. People might also appreciate the hangout aspects of this (which I mostly enjoyed) over a complete lack of plot or momentum (which I didn’t).
I just feel like when you try to cram Macdonald and Bolaño and Wharton and Leonard and God knows how many other literary references, you’re putting way too much weight on the simple foundation of noir. Noir should be sparse, it should cut, it should sharpen. This book is bloated and over-referential.
There’s enough meat on the bone, enough New Yorkness that I’m giving this three stars. But barely. I may appreciate this one when I get older. For now, it feels like a missed opportunity.
I got hyped for this book just by reading the blurb. A literary mystery in mid-aughts NYC? Rock on, brother. And then I read interviews by Dwyer Murphy and got even more pumped. His favorite authors are my favorite authors and his views on crime fiction nine.
And THEN some favorite writers blurbed it, including dropping a Chinatown reference to the plot. So…this rocked right? Yes?
Sigh.
On some level, I’m sure folks will appreciate the metatextual commentary on the genre and the constant vomiting of literary references. People might also appreciate the hangout aspects of this (which I mostly enjoyed) over a complete lack of plot or momentum (which I didn’t).
I just feel like when you try to cram Macdonald and Bolaño and Wharton and Leonard and God knows how many other literary references, you’re putting way too much weight on the simple foundation of noir. Noir should be sparse, it should cut, it should sharpen. This book is bloated and over-referential.
There’s enough meat on the bone, enough New Yorkness that I’m giving this three stars. But barely. I may appreciate this one when I get older. For now, it feels like a missed opportunity.