DONALD WESTLAKE 1933 — 2008

The mystery genre has lost one of its most endearing and prolific writers. Donald Westlake died at the age of 75 on Dec 31, 2008.

Using his own name and a number of pseudonyms, he wrote more than 100 books since his first novel “The Mercenaries,” was published in 1960.

I just finished reading the first three Parker novels, which he wrote as Richard Stark, and am currently reading “What’s So Funny?” one of the John Dortmunder series, he wrote as Donald Westlake.

I’ve always been a fan, but the reason for my sudden burst of interest in his books is that I had the good fortune to read some of his emails. We were corresponding.

We were introduced by a librarian here in upstate New York who had met each of us separately. When I asked her if she knew Mr. Westlake well enough to ask him if he’d be willing to read an advance copy of my next book, she said she’d give it a try.

To my utter amazement, he said yes.

The letter I sent along with a copy of my book was almost as difficult to write as the book itself. I mean, how do you write to a man who helped to define the category?

Within a few weeks I got a charming email from Mr. Westlake stating that my wife and I have now both read Flipping Out and enjoyed it a lot. She went first, as usual, being the closest thing I have to a taster.

And then he offered up a quote for my book. Only it wasn’t one of those it’s a real page-turner quotes. It was the kind of genre poetry that Donald Westlake had been writing effortlessly for nearly fifty years. In addition to the generous praise, he wove in some classic Westlake magic like Lomax and Biggs glide through the overlit shoals of Los Angeles like sharks through ginger ale.

And, they prowl the golden muck of the Los Angeles real estate bubble to fine effect.

I thought, my God, if only my book were as brilliantly written as his blurb.

I thanked him profusely, and we corresponded one more time. By now, he was no longer Mr. Westlake. He was Don. I told him I would have to try to get used to that. I offered to send him my first two books, and his answer was, I’d love to see them, and when calm returns I'll even read them. In order.

The books were in the mail to his home when he died New Year’s Eve while on vacation in Mexico.

I had hoped to meet him one day. Perhaps at the Staatsburg Library, along with the gracious librarian who introduced us. But sadly I won’t get to meet Donald Westlake in person. Or Richard Stark, or Tucker Coe, or Samuel Holt, or Edwin West or any of the other remarkable personas who gave the world ingenious plots, believable characters, and brilliant dialogue for half a century.

In addition to his 100 plus novels, more than 20 of which have been turned into films, Donald Westlake wrote non-fiction, and five screenplays, including one for Jim Thompson’s novel, "The Grifters," which won him an Academy Award nomination. He also won three Edgar Awards, and in 1993 the Mystery Writers of America awarded him the prestigious title of Grand Master.

He truly was a Grand Master. And for a few moments, I was not just a fan. I was a fellow author who got to call him Don.

My condolences to his wife Abby, his family, and the millions of readers who have lost a legend.

Marshall posted on January 2, 2009 1:03 AM