So Rich, So Dead

by Gil Brewer

Genres: Noir

First published January 1, 1951

About the author

Florida writer Gil Brewer was the author of dozens of wonderfully sleazy sex/crime adventure novels of the 1950's and 60's, including Backwoods Teaser and Nude on Thin Ice; some of them starring private eye Lee Baron (Wild) or the brothers Sam and Tate Morgan (The Bitch) . Gil Brewer, who had not previously published any novels, began to write for Gold Medal Paperbacks in 1950-51. Brewer wrote some 30 novels between 1951 and the late 60s – very often involving an ordinary man who becomes involved with, and is often corrupted and destroyed by, an evil or designing woman. His style is simple and direct, with sharp dialogue, often achieving considerable intensity.

Brewer was one of the many writers who ghost wrote under the Ellery Queen byline as well. Brewer also was known as Eric Fitzgerald, Bailey Morgan, and Elaine Evans.

http://www.gilbrewer.com/

Reviews

[Steven · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was Brewer's second novel and it reads fast and loose. Early on Brewer is channeling The Maltese Falcon: A private investigator with a dead partner, weird criminals trying to find loot, multiple femme-fatales. The descriptive writing is better than in some of his later books. The dialog, however, is clunky and doesn't move the story forward very well, in fact it is actually evasive. At first I thought it was just bad dialog, but I've seen this in other Brewer books and it is actually a tease and deny technique he uses. The dialog is rarely on the nose, the right questions are rarely asked, and any answers avoid communicating. Gets a bit frustrating in this one at times, but that's kind of OK because there is constant action as Bill Maddern is caught and then gets away, over and over again. He's jumping out windows, off roofs, and running a lot. Ultimately, this is a whodunnit where it is not too hard to be smarter than the investigator, so the concluding wrap-up is no surprise.

[Benjamin Chandler · Rating 4 out of 5]

Cranky P.I. Bill Maddern gets a message from his partner-and-brother to come to town on the next bus, but by the time Bill gets there, his brother is dead. So's the secretary. And now a little mobster with white hair and a gorgeous blonde girlfriend has kidnapped Bill and wants to know where "the money" is.

And it gets more nuts after that.

I really enjoyed this, even if the end was a bit rushed and maybe too neat. The story takes place all in one day, with poor Maddern going from one jam into another at breakneck speed. He gets beat up a lot. He's a jerk, but he knows it, and the things he saw in the Pacific during WWII didn't help.

As the plot thickens, Brewer keeps slamming the reader with these wicked similes that delighted me to no end. Consider:
"Her voice was as flat as stale beer."
"I dropped the cigarette on the floor and stepped on it. It had tasted a little the way a burning nest of field mice might smell."
"Dust motes crawled and swam in the air like lazy fireflies."
It's not Pulitzer writing, but it's fun. Not bad for a guy's second novel.

[David · Rating 3 out of 5]

In his second novel, Gil Brewer shows that he has a knack for starting a story quickly and keeping it moving. The entire narrative takes place across one day, beginning when the narrator, a PI named Bill Maddern, is summoned home by his brother. Problem is, when Bill gets home, he discovers that his brother, who is also a PI, has been murdered. From here, the plot proceeds at about the pace of the television show 24. Problem is, in the end the plot makes about as much sense as a season of 24, which is ironic given that the ending is not too difficult to see coming. Quick and enjoyable, but not much more than that.

[Jeff · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book is a good read, but it also supports the criticism that Brewer writes too fast. I also think he tried to juggle a few too many characters, but all this is due to the simple fact that there wasn't enough editing done on the early Gold Medal PBOs (1950-52). Neither the writers nor the editors really hit their stride until the mid-50s, with the exception of already seasoned writers such as Goodis and Woolrich.