falling down on the job

the job of reading, that is.
i finally pushed through (and loved) Lush Life by Richard Price. he is one of the co-writers for The Wire (which did nothing for Baltimore's reputation), and you could tell. the dialogue was snappy and slang-filled -- it was like watching a very very well written version of a cop show. my dad would most likely like this book, as my childhood was peppered with almost every cop/detective show that has come out in last 15 years. i was pissed when they canceled Homicide: Life on the Streets. i'm pretty sure i was the only 12 year old to mourn its passing on network television.
but more than that, the book was able to follow the tracks of two detectives in New York through their frustrations: with the friend of the victim who they thought for sure did it, canvassing the housing projects for witnesses, going into the projects filled with 10 Filipino men crowded into one room, dealing with the press, the victim's family. the novel was...grimy. my junior year English teacher told us to never say, "they painted a picture." but if Price's writing is that of an artist, he would not be Bob Ross. perhaps Pollack. lots going on, slightly upset, spattered with meaning in every paragraph. and also, i haven't read a book where i have to work to figure out the mystery myself - i love putting the puzzle of a book together, and this one was excellent.
mmm...books. i've missed you.
currently reading: John Henry Days by Colson Whitehead. i LOVED his debut, The Intuitionist. read it.