Criticalmick's Profile

Meet Ray.

Ray lit a cigarette and cracked the window, humming along with the stereo. Wondering how it was that Bruce always got himself hooked up on these women named Mary. 'Thunder Road,' 'The River,' 'Mary's Place'… Christ, the man was obs

Meet Ray.

Ray lit a cigarette and cracked the window, humming along with the stereo. Wondering how it was that Bruce always got himself hooked up on these women named Mary. 'Thunder Road,' 'The River,' 'Mary's Place'… Christ, the man was obsessed.

Ray, if he was Springsteen, he'd have shot through for Mexico long ago, nabbed himself a Juanita, some shit like that. Ray had only ever met one Karen before, this Kiwi blonde in Hamburg with an oral fixation. Ray getting blowjobs on busses, trains, even one time in the linen closet of a motel on the outskirts of Saarbrucken, near the French border. Ray on his back in a pile of dirty sheets coming up with a whole new language all his own. (page 22)

Ray is one of the central characters in Declan Burke's second novel, The Big O. Potted plot: Frank is an inept plastic surgeon with wife difficulties. His lawyer talks him into having the soon-to-be-ex kidnapped while she is still covered by the good doctor's insurance. But Madge (the aforementioned ex) is best friends with Karen, a single thirty-something whose secrets include a stashed .44 magnum and the weekly adrenaline rush she gets from armed robbery. What does a chick like this fear? Karen is in danger of falling for the man pulled out of retirement to be Madge's "baby-sitter."

"The guy I work for," he said, "that I worked for, sometimes he needs people held a while. I'm the one who does the holding." ....

Karen sipped some vodka-tonic. "So how come you're retired?"

"It was jump or be shoved. The Fridge checked out. A new shylock took over."

"The Fridge?"

"The guy liked to eat."

"What happened to him?"

"What happens to every fridge," Ray said. "Bottom of a canal. Punctured." (page 10-1)

Yep. Our boy Ray.

There's crossing and double crossing, a detective who gets rumor of the crime, golfing tips, orphans, pats on the head, and a madman named Rossi who's out of jail and out for revenge. Oh, plus a wolf. And Elvis hair. Mayhem and marijuana, hot n' stylish, loads of heart. Loads of fun on every page. Which is nice.

This review began with Ray, but it could have just as easily begun with any of the six main characters. The Big O is told in short, fast chapters of only a page or two, alternating from the point-of-view of Ray or Karen or Frank to Madge or Doyle or Rossi. Bear with me as I draw an analogy with "The Little O..." The experience is like eating those nice, spicy olives from that vendor in the Powerscourt Shopping Arcade: each one tasty, meaty, savory, different. "I'll have just one more," is a constant promise.

Days (the novel begins on a Wednesday, packing in all its action before the end of the following Tuesday) provide larger section breaks. I guess those Wednesday - Thursday - Fridays are roughly equivalent to containers of olives, but here the unruly analogy breaks down. Even being the big fat bastard that I am, I've never sat down and eaten three tubs of olives in a row.

A final important note, though: both spicy olives and The Big O go well with BEER. Put the mouse over the pic at right for a secret message on that subject.

One niggle: the setting. Where exactly are these characters? The city is never named. Snappy dialogue refers to currency as "five grand" or "ten large" without ever adding dollars, euros, pounds or roubles. Rossi in the dole queue starts complaining that he does not know his RSI number (an Irish identifier) and then later someone starts talking of the (American) Social Security. Likewise, the links connecting these characters push the bounds of coincidence.

Mick says: the dialogue, characters, plot and action were swift, sharp and entertaining enough to merit the suspension of disbelief. The same way that Training Day is a great movie despite the yawning implausibility of its crucial coincidence. Yes, the same way that 2006's Running Scared ran so fast and slick. Winners all, big time.

Riding the movie theme hard into this review's conclusion: The Big O is the stuff Tarantino or Guy Ritchie would make into a film, a great fun film like Snatch, Layer Cake or Get Shorty. Filled with as many great characters as Pulp Fiction or (my personal fave 90's crime flick) Things to do in Denver When You're Dead. Burke's Big O would inspire a classic full of tough crooks, wise cracks, drugs, flash and boobies. "Wow," viewers would say.

And then the hippest moviegoers, leading their hot redheaded dates outta the cinema, slipping on their designer shades, would say "Yeah, but have you read the book it was based on? The book was better."