The Pictures
Los Angeles, 1939, and The Wizard of Oz is just about to premier. MGM Studios is at the height of its power, but this depends on stars who are paragons to their adoring public. If the studio needs anything covering up—any drunken car wrecks, backstreet abortions, drug overdoses—the go-to man is Detective Jonathan Craine of the LAPD. Craine has made a good living out of studio backhanders for ten years, but, when called upon to smooth over the murder of a call girl, he’s ready to get out. Recently widowed and with a young son to raise, he has other things on his mind. This seemingly routine case, however, will go right to the heart of the studio and will change Craine’s life forever.
Bolton openly acknowledges his heavy debt to Chandler, Hammett, Leonard and their ilk, and this novel hits all the markers you would expect of a hard-boiled murder mystery set in 1930s Hollywood. Most of its set-pieces are genre clichés, with femmes fatales and silent men in fedoras and sharp-shouldered suits a-plenty. But, while Bolton doesn’t aspire to the linguistic fireworks of Chandler, he writes with pace and verve and gives the reader a cast of endearingly flawed characters who are easy to like. Craine himself goes on a profound personal journey, much of which revolves around his relationship with his son. This is neatly balanced by his sidekick, O’Neill, who lives in the shadow of his heroic father. The result is a novel which is, on one level, an accomplished crime thriller but, on another, a sensitive and serious exploration of the relationships between fathers and sons. A thoroughly enjoyable read, best accompanied by popcorn, a soda, and an old MGM movie.
