Ross Macdonald

His hard boiled alter-ego was Lew Archer, the sharpest detective on the West Coast for four decades. Ross Macdonald had a way with words, to be sure, but his biggest contribution to the private eye genre was his succinct appraisal of society throughout his creative life.

His characterizations are spot on involving an array of humanity’s archetypes. His depth of psychological insight is vast. He descriptive powers and use of metaphor are strikingly original and give great pleasure, like a woman awakening to her sexual prowess.

I’ve read quite a bit of Macdonald and I’m currently reading an Archer novel published in 1969. If you haven’t tried this lately, pick up one of his books and rediscover gems such as these from The Goodbye Look.

The young pink-haired receptionist turned from the switchboard. The heavy dark lines accenting her eyes made her look like a prisoner peering out through bars.

His eyes and voice were faintly drowsy with the past.

Pacific Street rose like a slope in purgatory from the poor lower town to a hilltop section of fine old homes.

She laughed a little. Her whole body was dreaming of the past.

She was flushed and brilliant-eyed, as if she was terminating an assignation.

I waited for nearly an hour. The birds in the brush got used to me, and the insects became familiar.

The rectangle of sunlight on the linoleum was lengthening perceptibly, measuring out the afternoon and the movement of the earth.

The yelp of Betty’s horn brought me out of a half-sleep.

Her words touched a closed place in my mind.

ETC., ETC.

What a great joy Ross Macdonald was. He died in 1983.


TS