Campaign for the American Reader: Pg. 69: "The Wheelman"

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Pg. 69: "The Wheelman"

Duane Swierczynski is editor-in-chief of the Philadelphia City Paper and author of The Wheelman , The Blonde, and other books about crime and vice. Among the praise for The Wheelman:

"Fast-moving and funny, The Wheelman is a Mr. Toad's Wild Ride in an R-rated amusement park."
--Booklist

I asked Duane to apply the "page 69 test" to The Wheelman. Here is what he reported:

What a great idea for a series of essays: open to a seemingly arbitrary page (I can only imagine why Marshal chose “69” out of all possible numbers) in your novel, then talk about what’s there.

Of course, I flip to page 69 in my second novel, The Wheelman and…

Well, yeah. I figured it’d be something like this:
“Yes. Mother. Fuck.”

Lisa.

Mikal.
Leave it to me to open page 69 with some naughty language.

The speaker is a Russian mob boss whose beloved son has been murdered; he’s meeting in a greasy diner with an Italian mob boss, and both have come to realize that their kids’ lives are intertwined:
The fathers hadn’t known about the connection between the two.

Lisa Perelli had been dating La Salle University senior Andrew Whalen for three months—ever since the end of winter break, when one of Lisa’s friends had dumped Whalen and she was there to pick up the pieces. They got along famously. Lisa already knew Andrew’s ticks; she’d heard Kimberly complain enough about them. She knew how to circumvent them, use them, fashion him into what she wanted. Mostly.

By sheer coincidence, Andrew Whalen played in a rock band with Mikal Fieuchevsky, the son of a suspected Russian mafiya vor based in Northeast Philadelphia.

The Southeastern Pennsylvania Crime Commission did not see this as sheer coincidence. They had been wiretapping Andrew Whalen’s dorm and home phone lines since January 10, 2003, when news of the Whalen-Perelli affair first made it back to headquarters. The Crime Commission saw it as a direct link between the dying Italian mob and the leaner, younger, tougher Russian mob. The relationship was a rouse, they reasoned; Whalen got his dick…
Well that’s enough of that. Things get a little randy, as they say, at this point.

I can be such a pottymouth.

Anyway—it’s funny this popped as page 69. Because I’m more about the show than the tell. Action, action, action. Never let the reader grow bored. Always keep him off balance. With this as my goal, I try to keep exposition (like the selection above, where I’m explaining stuff) to a minimum. This no doubt comes out of my journalism background, where the trick is to artfully blend showing and telling, quotes and exposition, action and background.

This page is a lot of telling. Bummer.

Then again, maybe this page is representative of The Wheelman. The novel follows Lennon, a mute Irish getaway driver who makes one little mistake—one could argue it wasn’t even a mistake—and the universe jumps down his throat sideways. Lennon’s universe is a cruel and random universe, where chances encounters rule the day and your only way out is a cocktail or nerves, skill and sheer luck. This encounter between the Russian mafiya vor and the old school Italian wiseguy is straight out of this universe. Total chaos; not an ounce of rational design.

A cruel, random universe.

Much like this essay series.

I love it.

Thanks to Duane for the input.

Here's just a taste of the praise that rolled in for The Wheelman:

“Duane Swierczynski is one of the best new things to happen to crime fiction in a long time. A kick-ass writer with wicked cool skills and the instincts of a seasoned veteran. Keep your eyes on him. He’s going places.”
—Victor Gischler, Edgar-nominated author of Gun Monkeys

“I canceled a night out and stayed up all night reading. That’s how much I loved this book . . . at every turn, I was blindsided. Hilarious and bloody violent.”
—Ken Bruen, Shamus Award–winning author of The Guards

Here's the advance word from Booklist on The Blonde, due out this month:

Swierczynski's The Wheelman (2005) was an adrenaline-charged thrill ride through the streets of Philadelphia, and this one is, too. But where Wheelman offered an inventive take on a traditional crime scenario--the heist gone wrong--The Blonde serves up more high--concept fare. Jack Eisley, dreading a meeting with his wife's ball-busting divorce lawyer, meets an attractive blond who informs him that she just poisoned his drink. If he wants the antidote, she adds, he'd better stay close, because if she doesn't have someone within 10 feet of her at all times, she'll die. Unfortunately for Jack, she is not a psycho. She is infected with fast-replicating and highly infectious nanomachines--and followed by a government agent who already has one head in his duffel bag. Her predicament, which soon becomes Jack's--thanks to an injudicious kiss--requires entertaining, nonstop problem solving. If the premise sounds hard to swallow, it's worth taking the bait. This is another fast, funny, and action-packed outing from a writer who, fortunately for us, doesn't seem to know how to slow down.