The Writer's Life 9/7 - All in a Day's Work

When I hit page three of William Hjortsberg's Falling Angel I faced a decision. I recognized the name Mr. Cyphre and realized it was the novel on which Angel Heart (1987) was based. I enjoyed its absurd fun, but since I still recalled the basics of the story, I considered putting the book aside. I chose to read a bit further, hoping there would be deviations from the script, as there almost always are in adaptations. The most important is location, NYC rather than New Orleans, a big plus. Although the work has a 1978 copyright, the author chose to set in 1959. News of Hawaii's statehood flash on the board in Times Square as the protagonist passes. Perhaps the author needed certain locations to fit the narrative. His knowledge of the city is impressive. In a blurb on the front cover of the paperback version, which must have been released well before the movie was planned, Stephen King wrote: "Terrific... As if Raymond Chandler had written The Exorcist..." That's a perfect description. The lively writing is the novel's best asset. Here are two examples: "The revelation hit me like an ice-water enema..." And: "... His companion was a kid in his twenties with a d.a. haircut and the wet, imploring eyes of a greeting card Jesus..." As for the story, of course it is more detailed than the picture, as any novel is. Since it's been so long since I've watched the film, I can't say which is better. I enjoyed both despite their absurdity. One aspect rankled. For anyone who hasn't seen the flick or read the book, this is a spoiler alert. While the private eye is certainly no angel or even a good person, he seems to have reformed a great deal from the evil he embraced in his past, which he has forgotten entirely after injury in WWII that required plastic surgery. Such evil seems innate. I doubt it could be quashed, although head injuries might change personality. This is Hjortsberg's most famous work, the fifth of his eight forays into fiction. He also wrote three original screenplays, the most notable being Legend (1985), a fantasy that starred Tom Cruise. He also did a bio of quirky author Richard Brautigan, perhaps a case of birds of a feather... 222 users at Amazon have rated Falling Angel, forging to a consensus of four on a scale of five. I wouldn't go nearly that high, but I respect the lively prose and dialogue enormously. The 242 pages read like considerably less. Here's a pic of Mickey Rourke in character as the shamus:

And here's a picture of Senator Corey Booker at yesterday's hearings on Supreme Court nominee Kavanaugh:

I didn't make much money at the floating book shop today, but the effort was well worth it. My thanks to the young woman and the middle age gentleman who purchased four works of fiction between them. Marty, NYPD retired, stopped to chat. He really opened up. He hasn't had a drink in more than three years, citing the date exactly. He went cold turkey on his own. He doesn't know if he actually was/is an alcoholic or if his job led to his drinking. He also is on a watch list composed by Mt. Sinai Hospital for those who worked at ground zero. He thanked me for listening and hurried away, as it looked as if it was about to pour. It didn't, fortunately. Next up was a group of three young Hasids, barely into their 20's, asking male passersby if they were Jewish. They usually confine themselves to the area just outside the Sheepshead Bay Road train station, but today they were out in full force, groups passing continuously. The three set up shop beside me under the scaffold. I didn't mind, as there was space between us. They managed to persuade two men to go through a brief ceremony that seemed a reconfirmation of faith. The first was a young man wearing a Yankees cap. Around his arm they wrapped a long vinyl substance that looked a lot like videotape. They also placed similar tape around the top of his head and a yarmulke on top. The guy put the baseball cap over it and quietly recited a prayer written out on paper. In the meantime, his female companion was chowing down on a plate of chicken and rice from Waj's food truck. At the end of the ceremony, one of the three Hasids pulled out a little shofar and blew into it for several seconds. I repressed laughter. Later, a retiree also complied and took it all very seriously. That wasn't the end of the entertainment. A middle aged woman wearing a back pack and carrying a bag in one hand and satchel in the other smiled as she came jogging by. She had to stop to let traffic pass at the corner of E. 13th. That gave a short, snarling Asian man the opportunity to catch her and snatch the satchel, which, apparently, she had stolen. All in a day's work.

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