Miami Blues

Miami Blues by Charles Willeford (1984) I couldn’t find my copy of The Burnt Orange Heresy (an increasing problem, lately, not being able to find books), and I missed the movie version—but I’ve also got a gaudy, paperback copy of this one, the first book of the Hoke Moseley series—also been meaning to get to (and I can’t remember if I saw the movie, way back). (Also, I found a nearly unwatchable version of Cockfighter, online, which I nearly watched.) I was thrown off, at first, by Willeford’s tone, but once I got used to it, I found this book irresistible. It's disturbing, but also very funny. Well, the very first line describes a character as “a blithe psychopath from California,” so you know you’re in for something. The three main characters are excellent portraits of people who might be considered losers, or reprehensible to some degree—a young, white, career criminal, a white middle-aged cop, and a way-to-young, white, woman, prostitute. The setting is a dated yet not nostalgic nightmare version of Miami. What did I find so compelling about this book? First, I recently wrote something (short segment) set in Miami, so I had the geography fresh in my mind—and I used to be fascinated with the town—though, more, the Keys, particularly “the final destination.” But as someone whose blood is too thick for even central Ohio, I picture living in Miami as hell—for me, anyway—but it’s fun to read about. Then, each of those three main characters are in their own way compelling. Despite their varying degrees of stupidity, racism, ignorance, cluelessness, and lack of morals, each one has their own odd kind of wisdom, survival skills, humor, code by which they live, and even weird charm. So that was interesting. I related to the aging cop, Hoke Moseley, perhaps too much. Also, he lives in a cheap residence hotel, called The Eldorado Hotel, and the descriptions of that place, the feeling of it, to me, was strangely inspiring—I could read whole books just about that place, alone.

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