Tag Archives: Travis McGee

BBC Radio 4 – 21 Shades of Noir: Lee Child on John D MacDonald

The Jack Reacher author Lee Child investigates the unusual life of author John D Macdonald

Source: BBC Radio 4 – 21 Shades of Noir: Lee Child on John D MacDonald

Well worth a listen, for Jack Reacher and Travis McGee fans.

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Filed under 2016, John D. MacDonald, mystery writing

A tribute to writer John D. MacDonald

John D and me: David Morrell

by David Morrell

Source: http://ticket.heraldtribune.com/2016/02/12/john-d-and-me-david-morrell/

John D. MacDonald

John D. MacDonald

John D. MacDonald gave me two gifts. One was the most memorable summer of reading in my life. I’d always been a fan of his standalone novels, particularly of “The Executioners” (1958) and its film adaptation, “Cape Fear” (1962). There was a second version of Cape Fear, of course, but that was many years later, and this is a story about the summer of 1979. That was when I very belatedly discovered MacDonald’s Travis McGee series.

I can’t explain why I hadn’t been aware of what I later called the MacDonald “color” series. After all, the McGee books had been around since “The Deep Blue Good-by” in 1964. But in 1979, “The Green Ripper” was published (about McGee confronting a group of domestic terrorists, long before most people imagined such a thing), and the clever title caught my eye. I read it with an intensity that matched its plot and immediately returned to the bookstore where I’d found “The Green Ripper.” I purchased the seventeen Travis McGee novels that preceded it, carrying the armload to my car. Every afternoon that summer, after I finished writing five pages of my own fiction, I luxuriated in the reward of sitting on my back porch, a cold beer at hand, reading them all.

What a joy. What a mythology. McGee’s houseboat, The Busted Flush, and the fascinating community at Bahia Mar marina in Fort Lauderdale. His economist companion, Meyer, whose words of wisdom about investing still ring true. McGee’s tragic girlfriends. His fondness for Boodles gin. Thanks to MacDonald’s vivid storytelling, I felt I was there and knew McGee and Meyer well enough to call them friends. There would be three more McGee books after “The Green Ripper,” concluding with “The Lonely Silver Rain” in 1985. Those final three were published over a span of six years. Now, instead of rushing through them, as I had with all those volumes in my greatest summer of reading, I savored them.

MacDonald died from heart-surgery complications in 1986. I have a letter from him, dated that year, in which he responded to a “thank you” note of mine—which brings me to his second gift to me. Back in 1972, when my debut novel, “First Blood,” was published, introducing the character of Rambo, MacDonald had honored me with my very first publicity quote, giving an unknown author a boost from a legend. I never forgot his generosity, and for some reason, in 1986, I felt compelled to thank him again.

Let’s jump forward to 1991. That summer, I was invited to give a talk at a reading festival in Fort Lauderdale, my first time in Florida. For the Saturday afternoon of that conference, I didn’t have any duties, so I used the opportunity to walk to nearby Bahia Mar marina. My goal was to find slip F-18 where The Busted Flush was supposedly moored.

I soon discovered that MacDonald had invented slip F-18. But I used my memory of the McGee novels to figure out where slip F-18 would be if it had existed, and in a moment as powerful to me as that summer twelve years earlier, I found this historical marker: “Dedicated to the ‘Busted Flush,’ home of Travis McGee, fictional hero & salvage consultant, created by John D. MacDonald, author, 1916-1986. Designated a literary landmark, February 21, 1987.”

I wept.

***

David Morrell is the author of “First Blood,” the novel in which Rambo was created. His latest is a Victorian mystery/thriller, “Inspector of the Dead.”

***

Source: http://ticket.heraldtribune.com/2016/02/12/john-d-and-me-david-morrell/

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Book review: John D. MacDonald Before Travis McGee

Book Review: John D. MacDonald Before Travis McGee – WSJ.

There’s a special kind of poignancy—amounting at times to pure excruciation—in seeing a great writer get famous for his worst books. When people bring up John D. MacDonald, they are almost always thinking of the dopey series of adventure stories he wrote about a Florida beach bum named Travis McGee. Ignored and forgotten are his early novels, 40 of them, which he poured out in one decadelong creative rush in the 1950s—thrillers, crime dramas, social melodramas, even science fiction—that taken together make him one of the secret masters of American pop fiction.

John D. MacDonald

John D. MacDonald

There is some hope that the situation may be about to change. Random House is engaged in a major effort to make almost all of MacDonald’s work available again. Inevitably, pride of place is being given to the McGee series, now reissued in spiffy trade paperbacks—all 21 of them, written between the early 1960s and MacDonald’s death in 1986, identifiable by their cutesy color-coded titles (“Darker Than Amber,” “Dress Her In Indigo,” “Pale Gray for Guilt”) as though they were a noir-inflected line of designer paint chips.

They were meant to be commercial products, and their main appeal today is nostalgia. They’re a kind of mausoleum of postwar American machismo. McGee is the classic wish-fulfillment daydream: an idler on a permanent vacation, who lives on a houseboat on Florida’s Atlantic Coast. He is tanned, ruggedly handsome and muscular; irresistible to women (something about his rueful romantic melancholy and his preference for athletic, commitment-free sex); and intimidating to men (in the late and feeble “Free Fall in Crimson,” where McGee should by rights be filling out membership forms for AARP, his superior masculinity awes and humbles a motorcycle gang).

In novel after novel, nobody ever bests McGee, nobody ever seriously challenges him—though the bad guys do sneak up behind him and knock him unconscious so many times you wonder if he needs a neurologist on speed dial. Meanwhile, the action keeps grinding to a halt so McGee can vent his opinions on contemporary life: the best power tools, the perfect cocktail, the proper way to set up stereo speakers, the menace of air conditioning in grocery stores. These opinions are notable mainly for their unconscious philistinism—as when the perfect dinner menu proves to be this staccato bark: “medium rare, butter on the baked, Italian dressing.” No real man in those days ever ate anything but steak, potato and salad.

But then there’s the rest of MacDonald’s oeuvre. Random House is issuing these in a jumble of paperback reprints and e-book exclusives, but at least they’re there, and no longer need be scrounged out at ruinous prices from the secondhand market. These are the books MacDonald did before he invented McGee, when he was trying out every conceivable pop genre of the postwar market, from soft-core sex comedies to psychological horror.

Article continues at: http://online.wsj.com/news/articles/SB10001424127887323324904579040672688388630

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Pulp Serenade: John D. MacDonald on Words and Writing (2)

John D. MacDonald

Pulp Serenade: John D. MacDonald on Words and Writing (2).

Recently, I came across an in-depth article on John D. MacDonald from around the time of the movie adaptation of Darker Than Amber. “The man who writes those Travis McGee stories: A look at John D. MacDonald” was written by Mike Baxter and was published in The Washington Post Times Herald on Feb 1, 1970. It was a fairly lengthy article, but below are excerpts of some of the most insightful parts:

[Mickey] Spillane visits [John D.] MacDonald’s home at intervals, and both write mysteries. As craftsmen, however, they are as close as Eldridge Cleaver and Sam Spade. Even Spillane can recognize the gulf. “I am a writer; you are an author,” The Mick once told MacDonald. There is more in that than semantic nonsense.

MacDonald writes on a beige IBM Selectric as if Doom were about to unplug it in the last great denouement…He devotes a business-like seven-to-nine hours a day writing, doing it until the lunch hour, then doing it again until the cocktail hour. Fast subtraction shows that this leaves “too little time, dammit” for other pursuits.

More at: http://www.pulpserenade.com/2011/10/john-d-macdonald-on-words-and-writing-2.html

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