So, here’s the deal. After writing about Drowned Hopes, and its shared chapter with Joe Gores’ 32 Cadillacs, I got curious for the first time about the other side of the coin, and what this shared chapter means in the other book. Using that tainted source of cheap books, Amazon, I ordered a copy of 32 Cadillacs for the princely sum of 1p, and my curiosity is now satisfied.
32 Cadillacs is a relatively early part of Gores’ DKA series, the DKA being Dan Kearney Associates, a San Francisco based firm of repomen. Which, for those unfamiliar with the term, means that their job is to repossess cars whose owners have fallen behind on the payments. And, whilst not technically being private detectives, having to use all the skills of such beings when dealing with skip-traces, i.e., tracking down delinquent car owners who have fled into the night.
Personally, whilst I’ll read anything readable once, I can’t imagine wanting to read a whole series, but then I’m not American, and I don’t have the same kind of relationship with my cars, and especially in the symbolic sense of how they relate to my masculinity/psycho-sexual self-image. This sort of stuff just goes deeper with Brother Jonathan.
Either way, Gores, like other crime-writers before him, was a repoman and a PI for many years so all the stuff that happens in his books is based on actual incidents, which much less tweaking than you might fondly imagine. Not that I found myself boggling at, well, anything in this novel, not like in Homicide – Life on the Street, where some of the crimes are utterly bizarre, yet are based, sometimes word for word, on a book of non-fiction.
Anyway, to 32 Cadillacs: the story starts by setting up an ingenious scam by two tribes of Gypsies to simultaneously acquire 32 Cadillacs. Their purpose, apart from the fact that Gyppos (I am using the word bandied about freely in the book, this once) scam the Gadje as a way of life, is because the King of the Gypsies is dying as a result of a fall, so the Gypsies will need to choose a new King, or Queen, and everyone is seeking to impress the outgoing King, who will choose his successor.
(The back cover blurb promises “the ultimate scam of all”, and you don’t have to read far to realise that the King is not going to die, he’s just scamming the entire world).
But there are 32 Cadillacs that require repo-ing, which means that Dan Kearney puts his top men (and one woman) on it, and, give or take some sub-plots and a generous amount of Gypsy – let’s say Rom instead – scamming, that’s more or less the story.
Where our favourite gang come in is incredibly late in the story, chapter 42, pp 304-311 out of 335. As we already know, from Drowned Hopes, the Dortmunder gang come into this because of Andy Kelp’s propensity for stealing cars with MD plates. On this occasion, the Cadillac might have Doctor’s plates, but they’re fake, part of a Rom scam.
The guy trailing this particular Cadillac is Ken Warren, who we only know from Drowned Hopes as having a serious speech impediment, that makes him sound like Donald Duck. Warren’s only just been taken on at DKA, to cover the ordinary cases whilst the top team binge on Cadillacs. Warren turns out to be a phenomenal repo machine, breezing through repos in quantity and quality, which is why he’s seconded to the Cadillac team.
We already know what happens: the action and the dialogue are identical to Drowned Hopes and this brief chapter is an hilarious insert into a story that, according to the cover blurb, was supposed to be funny, but which wasn’t making me laugh. Even when they’re being looked at from the outside, the Dortmunders are inherently absurd and recognisable, and Gores sort of sums this up by having Warren leave the scene deflated that he hasn’t had anything resembling a fight to get the Caddy, and thinking that the only one who got things right in that episode was Tom Jimson.
Funnily enough, the scene is funnier and works better in 32 Cadillacs than in Drowned Hopes. In both books, it’s an in-joke, albeit a big in-joke, but in Westlake’s book it’s wholly unrelated to the story, and it’s an interruption to the flow, whilst in Gores’ book, it’s an episode that, whilst calling attention to itself in a manner that interrupts the story, is structurally more acceptable, because the book is strongly episodic in its nature.
I’m reluctant to be dogmatic about this, since this is the only shared chapter I’ve ever come across, but my immediate impression is that they’re not really a good idea, because they are so detachable. The scene is more naturalistic in 32 Cadillacs but calls attention to itself in a slightly ‘how clever am I?’ manner but is an irrelevancy in Drowned Hopes. In both cases, the book stops whilst you admire the trick. And even if you don’t know that this is going on, the atmosphere changes as the two completely different milieu drift past each other, and you’re jolted, ever so slightly, out of the reality of whichever book you’re reading, which is always detrimental to the story.
I can think of circumstances in which the trick could be employed more seriously, and thus more successfully, but unless the authors were collaborating to an unlikely degree in their separate plotting, I can’t see it working as an integral part of both stories. As a serious part of the plot of one, and a convenient moment in another (e.g., disturbance created in book A to further protagonist’s plans also provides cover for protagonist in book B, who just happens to be in the same place), but it would take a lot of hard work to stop the exercise being, well, just a diversion.
At least I know now. And as for Gores’ work, based on this single example, it’s ok but it doesn’t pull me back for more. And, to be honest, the description of the activities of the Rom in this book as being a racial thing, does repel me.
Back to the Dortmunder gang!