Although, I hadn’t read all of Parker’s books, once I discovered Parker through his more recent works, I started picking up his earlier books when I saw them at used bookstores or garage sales, or to round out an Amazon order. Since I had most of them on hand already, news of Parker’s death prompted me to go back and start at the beginning of the Spenser series – The Godwulf Manuscript, (c) 1973. So for the past couple of months, I’ve just kept on through the entire Spenser series, in chronological order. It’s been extremely enjoyable – even rereading those I’d read quite recently.

Though each novel is written to stand alone as a crime novel, like most series in the mystery genre, a repertory of prime characters continues throughout. Apparently, the Spenser series is the most autobiographical of Parker’s works, and there’s an intimacy and authenticity in the evolution of these particular characters which shines through.

The main character, Spenser, is an intelligent, literate, ex-prizefighter, ex-cop turned private investigator – a tough, good-guy, wise-cracking thug with a big heart and who loves to cook. His long-time girlfriend, Susan Silverman, is a psychologist. The other most-constant character is Spenser’s best friend, Hawk – another ex-fighter toughie with noble intent – though Hawk’s activities and motivations often wander deeper into the realm of  illegal than his buddy Spenser’s.

As a psychology buff, I am naturally fond of Parker’s use of the dialog between Spenser and his psychologist- true-love, Susan, to effectively interject psychological elements into the resolution of each mystery. Parker often uses the same vehicle to comment on timely or newsworthy issues.

Within the gestalt of reading all of these books in rapid succession, I particularly enjoyed the dialog and evolution of the relationship between Spenser and Silverman as a reflective chronicle of the evolution of masculine and feminine stereotypes through some of the the most turbulent times of the feminist movement. As in life, there are no permanent or pat resolutions to the difficulties that surface, but, in my opinion, Parker did an excellent job showing us that the differences between men and women are as vital and important as our equalities. The Spenser-Silverman relationship flourishes because each honors the other’s individuality with compassion and a willingness to listen (plus a healthy thread of sexual intimacy).

It may have been coincidence, but repeatedly when purchasing Parker’s books, or reading them in public, I had women comment to me at how much their husbands or boyfriends liked Parker’s books. I hope this is not an accurate indicator of the ratio of Parker’s female fans. If so, it’s a shame, really. Though Robert B. Parker’s male protagonists are often violent and always extremely masculine, I perceive Parker’s message as, in many ways, strongly feminist.

Looking for Rachel Wallace, written in 1980, was a particularly pleasant surprise. I’m sure it was considered quite provocative when originally published.  The book juxtaposes Spenser’s competent, extreme masculinity against the radical feminist rhetoric of open lesbian, Rachel Wallace, who Spenser is tasked with protecting, and ultimately rescuing (using lethal violence) when she is kidnapped after firing Spenser. When thanking Spenser for the rescue, Wallace states: “You still embody much that I must continue to disparage. I still disapprove of you.”

Spenser’s reply: “Rachel, how could I respect anyone who didn’t disapprove of me?”  Rachel Wallace shows up briefly in later books as an valuable ally and friend to Spenser.

The character, Spenser, though masculine to the max, is likable, lovable and heroic – a life well-written.

Robert B. Parker’s other mysteries include the Jesse Stone series and the Sunny Randall series. I now plan to go back and read both of those series in chronological order as well. Character evolution through the progression of these series is part of the pleasure.

Robert B. Parker died of a heart-attack at the age 77, while writing at his desk – surely the most heroic kind of exit any writer would hope for.

If you are a Robert B. Parker fan (or even if you’re not), I highly recommend reading the touching, eloquent eulogy by his son, David, which was reprinted in its entirety in The Washington Post.

In his career as a professional investigative journalist and columnist for the Miami Herald, author Carl Hiaasen can obviously handle people and is apparently willing to ”mix-it up”  with more than a few. To quote his website bio: “Since 1985 Hiaasen has been writing a regular column, which at one time or another has pissed off just about everybody in South Florida.”

But there’s something about the motivational and reactive accuracy of Hiaasen’s Skink and Stranahan that makes me suspect Hiaasen has a hermitic streak himself.

I’ve recently become a big fan of Carl Hiaasen.  Hiassen’s works actually surpass the mystery genre into just plain fun, satirical, contemporary fiction. I just finished Double Whammy, (c) 1987, a murder mystery with a background of (all things) pro-bass fishing tournaments.  As a result, I’ve decided to make Most Memorable Hermits (Real or Fictional) a recurring feature in this blog. Although Kaczynski and Thoreau made the list by default, my first official nominee is Hiaasen’s Skink.

Skink is a highly intelligent, good-looking, slightly wacko, radical environmentalist. He’s also a former governer of Florida who vanished mid-term and was never found. When we first meet Skink, his hermitage is a book-lined lakeside shack. (In later novels he lives in abandoned vehicles and even a dumpster, but somehow he always has room for his library.)  His favorite food is fresh roadkill – when he gets hungry, he’s off to the highway like you or I would stop by a supermarket. If you’re unfamiliar with him, give him a read. Believe it or not, he’s a very likable character.

Skink also appears in these Hiaasen books: Native Tongue, (c) 1991; Stormy Weather, (c) 1995; and Sick Puppy, (c) 2000.