"My Least Favorite Life," sings the chanteuse in the smoky bar as two men glance warily at each other.
It almost made me laugh. Not exactly subtle. Ripe for parody.
But you know what? I really liked it. I liked the overhead shots of the freeways -- which while a cliche haven't been done that much lately. It felt more like Raymond Chandler, somehow. Or vintage James Ellroy.
When I read The Big Nowhere, by James Ellroy, it was a revelation to me. It probably turned me away from S.F. and Fantasy for a couple of decades as my main diet, into mysteries and thrillers. L.A. Confidential was then the confirmation of that for me.
So this was like a new James Ellroy, and I couldn't ask for more. (Frankly, I don't read Ellroy as much since I think he's let his style take over his substance.)
I've been reading lots of negative reviews of the new season of True Detective, but I thought it was great, even the excesses.
The main criticism of the show seems to be that it is delving into cliches, unlike the first season. I beg to differ. I think the first season did exactly the same thing -- and the only way you don't know that is if you haven't read Southern Gothic fiction, or the crime novels of Joe Lansdale and James Lee Burke.
So I'm really looking forward to this show, and will try to ignore all the politically correct scolding (much like the scolding GOT's gets.)
I'm not sure you can write consequential fiction if you're trying to please everyone.
2 hours ago