Book Review by Patrick H. Moore
May 23, 2022
Matt Goldman, author of the Nils Shapiro PI series, is a very funny man. He started out doing stand-up comedy while a student at the University of Minnesota. He was apparently pretty darned good; before long he was opening for Jerry Seinfeld and other well-known comedians.
Friends suggested he move to LA to write for film and television. He gave it a shot and within a few years he was writing for various TV series including Seinfeld, Ellen and Love & War.
Somewhere along the line, Mr. Goldman, who has stated that he was originally a “literary fiction snob”, decided to take a crack at crime writing. Like countless other crime writers, he was inspired by Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe stories, which, among other things, he found to be quite humorous. It dawns on me that there may be something a bit Seinfeldian in Philip Marlowe’s sarcastic rejoinders.
I just read the fourth book in Mr. Goldman’s Nils Shapiro PI series, which is called Dead West. I’m not sure why he chose this title, possibly because in the course of the story, at least two characters “get dead” in LA and several others come close to their ultimate reckoning.
As the story begins, Nils is hired by a rather stiff old woman of some means named Beverly Mayer to fly out to LA to check up on her grandson Ebben, who is filthy rich with a huge trust fund and whose fiancee Juliana has just died mysteriously, perhaps the victim of foul play. The elderly Ms. Mayer is afraid that Ebben, whom she considers to be quite naive, is throwing away his fortune by investing foolishly in movies and generally allowing himself to be fleeced by unscrupulous operators.
Once in LA, Nils, who narrates the story in his own first person voice, discovers that Ebben, who is a decent, idealistic fellow intent on making quality movies, is skilled at finding investors for his film projects and is actually quite cautious with his own money. Ebben is hooked on energy drinks and it turns out that his deceased fiancee Juliana died from an overdose of stimulants. Decadent fellow that I am, I assumed that the stimulants were either coke or meth, which struck me as a bit odd because although it’s easy to overdose on these nefarious drugs, overdoses generally cause intense fear and paranoia but rarely result in death.
Aha! The joke was on me. The stimulant that took poor Juliana out of the game was caffeine. The poor woman died of a caffeine overdose, which is apparently possible. In fact, just a few days ago, a hapless Brit died from ingesting the equivalent of 200 cups of coffee.
(My own caffeine adventures pale in comparison. As a wet-behind-the-ears teen, I did once ingest 9 NoDoz tablets. Spent the night listening to the all night DJs on my AM radio. That was it. My heart did not burst though I vaguely recall having to pee a lot.)
Once Nils arrives in LA (Ebben actually lives in Hancock Park), he begins to build his plot and has a field day making fun of Los Angeles, Hollywood and the film industry in general. But lest this confuse you, gentle reader, Dead West is no Day of the Locusts. Rather, the film industry types in this story – Sebastiano, Bunion Brit, Debra, Thom Burke and others – are ribbed rather gently rather than cruelly, and in time, Nils becomes rather fond of Big LA and its cast of improbable types, not the least of which is the villain, a short squat Eastern European type named Vassily who goes around threatening people, speaks pigeon English, and wears a patch over one eye.
Although apparently not interested in planting his flag in the vast reservoir of neo-noir that is the turf of writers like Dennis Lehane, James Lee Burke, and Lee Child, Mr. Goldman is an extremely funny writer. At several junctures I found myself laughing uncontrollably. He is equally skilled at creating humor through descriptions and actual events. At one point, I was laughing so hard that I literally fell off my couch. And I should add, to get a grim old couch potato like yours truly to laugh so hard he falls off his couch is no mean feat.
The overall rendering of my beloved SoCal with special emphasis on Hollywood, West LA, the film industry in general, and Hollywood Hills, which I believe the author never actually mentions by name, is executed with verve and humor. “Traffic, thine name is Los Angeles.”
To avoid spoilers, let me only say that good-hearted, energy drink addicted Ebben ultimately finds himself in one helluva jam.
At a certain point it becomes clear that this book is, among other things, a human interest story about relationships cloaked in the trappings of a murder mystery. Nils Shapiro, like Ebben, is a kind-hearted person. He is engaged to Gabriella in Minnesota and can’t wait to get back to her. Nils’ partner at his agency is also very kind. In fact, everyone in Minnesota except Beverly Mayer seems to be pretty cool. LA fares poorly in contrast. The LAPD cops are on the take and the majority of the circle of agents, producers, and writers that orbit around Ebben are either larcenous, conniving or both.
Halfway through the story, Nils, missing his recently found domestic bliss, joyfully returns to Minneapolis to reunite with Gabriella. He only returns to LA because, as the plot develops, Ebben needs him desperately, and Nils is too decent a person to ever abandon a client.
Something I found most endearing about this story is Nils’ deep friendship with Jameson, a black 6’ 7” former professional football player turned nurse practitioner. Jameson has been devastated by a medical emergency in which he was unable to save several severely injured children and watched them die on his watch. As Deep West progresses, Jameson slowly regains his mental equilibrium.
Without providing any clues, let me only say that the ultimate crisis in this story took me completely by surprise and is surely not your everyday crime novel crisis. In fact, it is most curious, ‘passing strange.
On balance, I am very glad to have read Dead West and I recommend it heartily to any readers who enjoy a good humorous mystery that is anchored in genuine human relationships but which does not choose to delve TOO deeply into the underbelly of human existence.
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