Today is release date for Bruce DeSilva’s latest Liam Mulligan crime novel. I’m looking forward to The Dread Line. It’s always a pleasure to see what Bruce is writing. Today, he’s written a piece for us. Thank you, Bruce.
*****
Why
the Hero of My Crime Novels Loves the Blues
the Hero of My Crime Novels Loves the Blues
I’ve always loved the
blues.
blues.
When I was a teenager,
and all the other kids were grooving to the Beach Boys and the Beatles, I was
drawn to Muddy Waters—and to the Rolling Stones, whose music owed more to
American urban blues than to rock ‘n roll. Now, four decades later, my favorite
vacation is a blues cruise, steaming through the tropics with the likes of
Buddy Guy, Shemikia Copeland, and Magic Dick.
and all the other kids were grooving to the Beach Boys and the Beatles, I was
drawn to Muddy Waters—and to the Rolling Stones, whose music owed more to
American urban blues than to rock ‘n roll. Now, four decades later, my favorite
vacation is a blues cruise, steaming through the tropics with the likes of
Buddy Guy, Shemikia Copeland, and Magic Dick.
By remarkable
coincidence, Liam Mulligan, the hero of my crime novels, loves the blues, too.
As he drives around New England fighting the good fight, he’s always got Koko
Taylor, B.B. King, or Stevie Ray Vaughn playing on his car’s sound system. The
blues is the soundtrack of both of our lives.
coincidence, Liam Mulligan, the hero of my crime novels, loves the blues, too.
As he drives around New England fighting the good fight, he’s always got Koko
Taylor, B.B. King, or Stevie Ray Vaughn playing on his car’s sound system. The
blues is the soundtrack of both of our lives.
But it was only with
my latest novel, when a shaken Mulligan killed a man for the first time and
turned to the blues for solace, that we both asked ourselves why. Why were we
always drawn to music about hard times at the bottom of a shot glass—the music
of the scorned and shattered?
my latest novel, when a shaken Mulligan killed a man for the first time and
turned to the blues for solace, that we both asked ourselves why. Why were we
always drawn to music about hard times at the bottom of a shot glass—the music
of the scorned and shattered?
Of course the blues,
or sometimes bluesy jazz, has long been associated with noir movies and TV
shows. You can hear great examples in Chinatown (1974), In
the Heat of the Night (1967) Black Snake Moan(2006), and The
Blues Brothers (1980), which combined Chicago-style blues with a
parody of detective films. And
what better to herald the arrival of a noir detective than a moaning blues
saxophone like the one in the theme song from the Mike Hammer TV show
(1958-9).
or sometimes bluesy jazz, has long been associated with noir movies and TV
shows. You can hear great examples in Chinatown (1974), In
the Heat of the Night (1967) Black Snake Moan(2006), and The
Blues Brothers (1980), which combined Chicago-style blues with a
parody of detective films. And
what better to herald the arrival of a noir detective than a moaning blues
saxophone like the one in the theme song from the Mike Hammer TV show
(1958-9).
Mulligan inherited his
love of the blues from his late father, who would come through the door
exhausted from another day of delivering milk, put a scratchy Son Seals album
on the turntable, pull out his Comet harmonica, and play along—even though
nobody would ever mistake him for Little Walter.
love of the blues from his late father, who would come through the door
exhausted from another day of delivering milk, put a scratchy Son Seals album
on the turntable, pull out his Comet harmonica, and play along—even though
nobody would ever mistake him for Little Walter.
Now, after a long day
spent shaking a tail, tracking down a killer, or staring at a broken body,
Mulligan does the same thing, although no one would ever mistake him for Rick
Estrin. Like his father, he belongs to the downtrodden tribe that turns misery
into music—the kind that warns us what the world is like and steels us against
it.
spent shaking a tail, tracking down a killer, or staring at a broken body,
Mulligan does the same thing, although no one would ever mistake him for Rick
Estrin. Like his father, he belongs to the downtrodden tribe that turns misery
into music—the kind that warns us what the world is like and steels us against
it.
It is music
well-suited to Providence, R.I., where Mulligan was born and raised. About the
only thing Rhode Island ever had going for it was Narragansett Bay, but the
sludge from the sewage pipes and textiles mills poisoned it. The little state’s
mill jobs took off for the Carolinas on their way to Latin America and South
Asia in the 1960s; and after that, his little slice of New England was a dead
zone for a very long time. Even now, as Providence experiences something of a
renaissance, the city is crawling with working class people set upon by
organized crime and politicians who misplaced the morals God gave them. The
place is flooded with blue. It’s either the blues or country music that speaks
to—and for—people like that, and, country never took hold there.
well-suited to Providence, R.I., where Mulligan was born and raised. About the
only thing Rhode Island ever had going for it was Narragansett Bay, but the
sludge from the sewage pipes and textiles mills poisoned it. The little state’s
mill jobs took off for the Carolinas on their way to Latin America and South
Asia in the 1960s; and after that, his little slice of New England was a dead
zone for a very long time. Even now, as Providence experiences something of a
renaissance, the city is crawling with working class people set upon by
organized crime and politicians who misplaced the morals God gave them. The
place is flooded with blue. It’s either the blues or country music that speaks
to—and for—people like that, and, country never took hold there.
Me? I grew up just 20
miles away in a parochial Massachusetts mill town where the mill packed up and
moved to South Carolina when I was ten years old. It’s no accident, then, that
aside from the Cowsills, the most famous band to come out of Rhode Island is
Roomful of Blues.
miles away in a parochial Massachusetts mill town where the mill packed up and
moved to South Carolina when I was ten years old. It’s no accident, then, that
aside from the Cowsills, the most famous band to come out of Rhode Island is
Roomful of Blues.
But there’s more to
the appeal of the blues than that.
the appeal of the blues than that.
Mulligan was an
investigative reporter until the dying newspaper he worked for fired him last
year in A Scourge of Vipers. I used to be an investigative
reporter, too. Mulligan’s new job is working part time for a private detective
agency, and mine is writing crime novels. What those jobs have in common is
that we are forever probing the dark hearts we pray against.
investigative reporter until the dying newspaper he worked for fired him last
year in A Scourge of Vipers. I used to be an investigative
reporter, too. Mulligan’s new job is working part time for a private detective
agency, and mine is writing crime novels. What those jobs have in common is
that we are forever probing the dark hearts we pray against.
eyes with mobsters, button men, pimps, drug dealers, corrupt politicians, and
serial killers. More than once, we’ve found ourselves wondering if something
rotten was eating away at us, turning us into the very thing that we fear. Then
the twang of a blues guitar fills the room, preaching that even in the darkest
of times, light exist and that the purpose of life is just to live it.
In The Dread
Line, as Mulligan sips his bitter whiskey and ponders how killing a man may
have changed him, he turns to “Different Shades of Blue,” a 2014 composition by
Joe Bonamassa. It’s a wrenching tale of lost love, but one line said it all
both to both of us:
Line, as Mulligan sips his bitter whiskey and ponders how killing a man may
have changed him, he turns to “Different Shades of Blue,” a 2014 composition by
Joe Bonamassa. It’s a wrenching tale of lost love, but one line said it all
both to both of us:
“You carry the
pain around, and that’s what gets you through.
pain around, and that’s what gets you through.
*****
Bruce DeSilva grew up in
a parochial Massachusetts mill town where metaphors and alliteration were
always in short supply. Nevertheless, his crime fiction has won the Edgar and
Macavity Awards; been listed as a finalist for the Shamus, Anthony, and Barry
Awards; and been published in ten foreign languages. His short stories have
appeared in Akashic Press’s noir anthologies, and his book reviews for The Associated
Press appear in hundreds of publications. Previously, he was a journalist for
40 years, writing and editing stories that won nearly every journalism prize
including the Pulitzer. His new novel is The Dread Line.
a parochial Massachusetts mill town where metaphors and alliteration were
always in short supply. Nevertheless, his crime fiction has won the Edgar and
Macavity Awards; been listed as a finalist for the Shamus, Anthony, and Barry
Awards; and been published in ten foreign languages. His short stories have
appeared in Akashic Press’s noir anthologies, and his book reviews for The Associated
Press appear in hundreds of publications. Previously, he was a journalist for
40 years, writing and editing stories that won nearly every journalism prize
including the Pulitzer. His new novel is The Dread Line.
 |
| Blues harmonica player, Magic Dick, formerly of the J.Geils Band, reading one of DeSilva’s earlier Mulligan crime novels |
I've enjoyed all of Bruce's mysteries and was privileged to sit at his table at the Left Coast Crime banquet in Monterey. The new one is waiting for me in the library–can't wait to read it!
I don't have mine yet at the library! Darn, darn. Looking forward to it, though, Margie.