RIP Mickey Spillane...jeez, what can I say: the guy was a legend.
He may have lacked the sardonic urbane wit of Chandler, or Hammett's wry, rye-soaked take on F. Scott Fitzgerald, but Spillane's writing was pared-back and packed a two-fisted, Colt .45 punch that could blow a hole in an oak-panelled door. Terse, muscle-solid prose with an occasionally surreal turn of phrase, Spillane's books strong-armed their way into my life back in my teens and have stayed there ever since. I speed-read pretty much everything he wrote over a year or so in the late seventies...I don't have many heroes, but he was one of them. Strange as it seems, he's up there w/ Burroughs in my own twisted literary pantheon: he kick-started my own late teen imagination, opened up the world of Pulp and helped start me on my own slow road to writerdom...
He even wrote comics for Marvel in the 40's. I know he did Captain America...I wonder if he ever worked w/ Kirby?
There's hard-boiled and then there's Spillane.
He stands alone, a giant.
A total fucking legend.