Broken

This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.

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From the Back of the Book

No matter how you come into this world, you come out broken . . .

In six intense, haunting short novels, Don Winslow returns to the themes that are the hallmarks of his acclaimed body of work—crime, corruption, vengeance, justice, loss, betrayal, guilt, and redemption—to explore the savagery and nobility that drive and define the human condition.

In Broken, Winslow creates a world of high-level thieves and low-life crooks, obsessed cops and jaded private detectives, dope dealers and government agents, bounty hunters and fugitives. Diverse and richly drawn, these characters—some familiar, others new—are lost souls driving without headlights on the dark highway of modern America. Set in New Orleans and Hawaii, Southern California and south Texas, each story in this collection is distinctively Winslow, shaped by his trademark blend of insight, humanity, humor, drama, and consummate literary craftsmanship.

A powerful, gripping collection of tales that will become classics of crime fiction, Broken is Don Winslow at his nerve-shattering, heartbreaking best.

I’m not so sure I’d call these “short novels,” or novellas, or whatever. They’re long short stories. 50-60 pages or so each. But eh, who cares what they’re called? They’re a bunch of stories by Don Winslow—that’s enough for me.

Here are a few words about each.

Broken

Stunning. Gut-wrenching. Violent.

At its core, it’s about a narcotics officer in the New Orleans Police Department out for vengeance against the drug lord who killed his brother.

It’s about the price of vengeance, the hole a death can leave in a family, the costs of the War on Drugs to those on both sides, and what can happen when the watchmen aren’t watched.

Crime 101

Winslow is a master of style. It’s like he periodically decides to show the world that he’s the flashiest Crime Fiction writer in action. Sometimes he does it in a chapter (or less) of a novel, sometimes he does it for longer (I recall Savages being that)—this is one of those times. The entire thing is so quotable. The term cinematic comes to mind—you can practically see everything as you read it—maybe even reach out and touch it.

The story focuses on a master thief—so good that no one knows what he looks like. He’s referred to as the 101 Bandit because his targets seem to be focused up and down the Pacific Coast Highway, Highway 101.

Davis is everything you want a master thief to be (especially if you’ve watched too many movies). He’s cool, he drives flashy cars, he has exquisite taste in food and drink, and—because he lives by certain ironclad rules for his jobs–he’s never been caught.

Lou’s the detective who’s devoted to catching him. He’s not cool or stylish—he’s leaving his (cheating) wife, starting a new chapter in his life, and is determined to put the Bandit away.

Both are very good at their chosen professions—which is better?

The San Diego Zoo

Rightly or wrongly, I think of Winslow stories in one of two ways—they’re either full of gritty realism (think The Force, The Cartel trilogy, or Broken above). Or they’re this kind of crime story that you want to laugh at, even though it’s not really a comedy. They’re just as grounded, but there’s a joy to them that seems impossible to come from the same pen as the others.

This story belongs here. I shared the opening a couple of months ago—and it hooked me hard. I’m pretty sure that I texted the friend who gave me the book about my fanaticism for the story before I was half-done. I really think that I could read this daily for a month and still enjoy it.

Oh, what’s it about? A chimpanzee has escaped from the San Diego Zoo and somehow got a pistol. One of the cops at the scene is instrumental in getting the gun away from the chimp without a tourist (or anyone) getting shot and helping the Zoo retrieve it. Then gets curious about how the chimp got the gun and does his best to answer the question, and the reader gets taken on a wild ride.

Sunset

I will always and forever take an excuse to read about Boone Daniels from The Dawn Patrol and The Gentleman’s Hour. In this story, Boone is off to chase down a beloved and legendary surfer who’s skipped on bail. How beloved? Some time ago Boone tagged this man with the nickname “ELT” for “Everyone Loves Terry.”

But now Terry’s on the verge of ruining a bail bondsman’s business. And yeah, he’s beloved—except by those he’s taken advantage of (like Boone, who keeps letting him do it).

I’m on the verge of retelling the whole thing in a lousy way. So I’ll just shut up. It’s a great cat-and-mouse hunt starring the world and characters from The Dawn Patrol (my personal favorite Winslow novel).

Even if you don’t regard the initial novel as an almost-Platonic ideal, even if you’ve never read that novel, you’ll find something to enjoy in this story.

Paradise

The trio at the center of Winslow’s Savages and The Kings of Cool head to Hawaii to vacation and hopefully start doing some business. Because it’s this particular trio and they attract trouble, things go horribly wrong. But they go wrong in a flashy, stylish, and violent way. There’s some connection with other Winslow works, too.

It’s been years since I read them, so I can’t say for certain—but I think this isn’t as good as Savages, but better than The Kings of Cool. But both were so good, I’m not sure it matters.

The Last Ride

This was simply heartbreaking. It’s a story about a guard at an ICE detention center for children who’s had enough. The sight of one particular girl locked up moves him in a way that others haven’t. So he takes matters into his own hands.

So, what did I think about Broken?

This is a fantastic collection—not a dud in the batch, although I liked some more than others, but that says more about my tastes than the quality of the stories. This really feels like a broad overview of “here’s the spectrum of what Crime Fiction can be” (except for cozy, I don’t know if Winslow is capable of cozy). Each story is distinct and self-contained*—it’s hard to think that some are written by the same man—with different voices, different types of stories, and so on.

* Although there are some links between some of these stories in the volume—as well as ties to earlier novels.

One reason that I don’t want to quibble too much with the whole “short novel” descriptor is that unlike many short stories or novellas—every one of these stories packed the punch of a novel. The plots, intricacies of story and character, the emotional weight, and whatever else you want to ascribe to the reading experience felt more like it belonged to a 200+ page novel rather than a 50± page story.

Anything else I can think to say at this point is just a repetition. This is a great collection from a master of the craft. Don’t miss it.