Memory

Donald Westlake was an amazing writer. Of the 64 Hard Case Crime books published thus far, Westlake has been well represented by 361, The Cutie, and Somebody Owes Me Money, but his last novel, Memory, is equally remarkable. As other reviewers have noted, this is noir without crime, but not without the struggles and conflicts that characterize great literature. Part time actor Paul Cole is beaten after an affair by a jealous husband and from there he begins his journey back 'home'. Decidedly not glamourous, his life rebuilds from a shattered mental frame which never quite synced again. Today, we cannot understand what stigma a victim with amensiac episodes would have suffered, but Westlake explores a life not well lived. Engrossing, "Memory" is a suitable tribute to a grand master author we have been privileged to enjoy.

When author Donald E. Westlake died at the end of 2008, he left only one unpublished novel, Memory, which he had written early in his career (sometime in the '60s), but which was rejected by his agent for being "too literary" (i.e., unsellable). So, it was put in his files and never saw the light of day. With the assistance of Lawrence Block and Abby Adams (Mrs. Westlake), Charles Ardai of Hard Case Crime has made Memory available now for all the Westlake fans who've been clamoring for one more book from the Mystery Writers of America Grandmaster. Paul Cole, a road company actor in a touring Broadway hit, stops off for some midnight fun after that night's show. While in flagrante delicto, her husband storms in and brains Paul with a chair, putting him in the hospital and knocking the sense right out of his head. He can't remember much for any significant length of time. Cole struggles every day just to survive: to work and make money so he can get back to New York and try to find his old life again. But things like room and board, food, and a general inability because of regular expenses keep him stuck. He tries to make notes when he remember bits and pieces, but when he returns to the notes later, they don't seem to mean anything anymore. How can you buy a bus ticket if you don't remember why you were putting aside the money in the first place? And Paul is always fearful that he will forget something important, like to go to work, but daily events settle into a routine and they get a little bit easier for a while. Then the police come for him.... Memory is a great book, and I write this without reservation. It outshines anything else Westlake has done and makes his intricately plotted Dortmunder and Parker novels seem like silly trifles. I'll even go so far as to say that from now on, every Westlake book will be compared to it, every fan defined by their appreciation of it. ("You like Westlake? Have you read Memory?") How ironic that such an early book could end his career on such a pinnacle of achievement. The real beauty is how Westlake takes the reader along as if we are on the business end of a leash. Everything Paul feels, we feel (torpor, joy, happiness, confusion, fear), only with the extra knowledge of an outsider, adding suspense to the mix. Since Paul doesn't know what to expect, neither do we, though we desperately want to find out, so we watch with breathless anticipation as he continues on his path toward the rediscovery of Paul Cole. It's tragic to watch Memory unfold, as Cole takes a step forward only to fall behind again, but utterly compelling in a voyeuristic way. It's almost a good thing that Memory was not published back when it was written, because given the author's reputation for short crime novels, it likely would not have seen print at its full 360-page length. And I imagine that one of the scenes that would have been cut -- because it does little to further the plot and adds nothing to the character -- is also on

Traveling with a troupe actor Paul Cole wakes after being comatose for over fifty hours at Memorial Hospital after receiving a vicious beating from the husband who caught him having intercourse with his wife. City Police Lieutenant Murray informs Paul he can press assault charges while the cuckold spouse can counter with adultery; the cop suggests to the actor and the husband to file nothing. With little money and Murray putting him on the bus to leave town, he heads east to New York City where he lives, but has to stop at Jeffords as he lacks the funds to get the rest of the thousand miles or so home. Worse his memory is failing him since he got his brains battered. He needs to build a future, but his past is foggy. He knows he needs to find work to come up with the $33.42 to get home. Unemployment offers him no employment except to check with Jeffords Leather Works who hire the unskilled. He soon learns how difficult it is for a person with a disability to get help from others. Written in the 1960s, once the reader moves past the sticker shock of costs and Murray's crime scenario, readers will relish this powerful still timely tale of a man struggling with memory issues while trying to get home to regroup. Paul is a great central character as he realizes increasingly the consequences of his indiscretion as well as the futility of dealing with people to busy to assist him especially those paid to do so. This is a great look at society through the eyes of a man condemned for life due to one relatively minor gaffe. Harriet Klausner

It's still very early in the year, but this is the first entry my top ten list. Very Highly recommended.

Memory is the final novel from mystery grandmaster Donald Westlake. It is sold as a paperback original, coming from dedicated pulp specialists Hard Case Crime. The concept of amnesia - and lost identity - is a common one through the pulps. Many of the great (and not-so-great) authors have used this method to create dramatic tension ("Is this woman a friend or an enemy?"), redefine characters ("I'm a good guy now!") and set up a shocking final reveal ("Good lord, I'M the dead man!"). Westlake's Memory transforms this literary device into an art form. Paul Cole begins the book in the arms of another man's wife. Unfortunately, the man (armed with heavy furniture) takes exception to that. So by the second chapter, Paul is in the hospital with a bad concussion. Although Paul's breaks and bruises heal quickly, his memory does not. He quickly realizes - and then re-realizes and re-realizes - that his life has changed completely. After a brief convalescence, Paul is dumped out on the streets of a seedy Midwestern town, with only a handful of doctor's bills and a morally-outraged local cop to keep him company. Paul's initial mission is simple: get back to New York City (according to his wallet, he lives there). As the book progresses, Paul's mission becomes less simple. Day to day actions like paying rent or getting to work present major challenges to him. He can't even remember his own taste in music, much less what he got up to with his last girlfriend(s). His initial goal of getting back to New York City proves a false hope - Paul is surrounded by an "aura of hopelessness" (to quote one of his old friends). Just changing location doesn't shrug it off. Westlake is a great writer - which makes this a dangerous book. It is impossible not to empathise - and therefore suffer alongside - Cole. From chapter to chapter, Cole's life becomes an increasingly Kafka-esque struggle, and the reader is dragged alongside him every stumbling step of the way. This is an exceptional and painful book. It is the essence of noir without a hint of crime - one man's unceasing, provocative struggle to make good in a relentlessly grim world.