Posts Tagged ‘A Fistful of Collars’

Memorial Day: We Remember

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May 25th, 2020 Posted 8:40 am

He came around from behind the cash register and rolled toward us in his wheelchair real fast, long hair lifting off his shoulders in the breeze. Vin was another old Army pal of Bernie’s, had a massive upper body and below that a lower body easily covered by a small blanket. They shook hands, Bernie’s hand, which normally looked so big, lost in Vin’s. “What’s doin’?” Vin said, reaching into his pocket and tossing a biscuit my way. I was ready, caught it in midair.

(from A Fistful of Collars)

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Beginnings

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January 26th, 2020 Posted 8:29 am

On Sunday we do beginnings, taking a look at the start of a Peter Abrahams novel, including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker. Politics seems to be in the air these days, so how about A Fistful of Collars, a Chet and Bernie mystery where some political shenanigans are going on?

“Heard you drove another one off a cliff,” said Nixon Panero. He spat a thin brown stream of chewing tobacco into an empty paint can, or maybe not that empty. Yellow paint, the yellow of egg yolks, now with a brown swirl in the middle: there’s all kinds of beauty in life.

“You heard wrong,” said Bernie.

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Happy Memorial Day Weekend, Everybody

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May 26th, 2019 Posted 8:20 am

He came around from behind the cash register and rolled toward us in his wheelchair real fast, long hair lifting off his shoulders in the breeze. Vin was another old Army pal of Bernie’s, had a massive upper body and below that a lower body easily covered by a small blanket. They shook hands, Bernie’s hand, which normally looked so big, lost in Vin’s. “What’s doin’?” Vin said, reaching into his pocket and tossing a biscuit my way. I was ready, caught it in midair.

– from A Fistful of Collars

[And re the song video submissions – scroll down for last 2 posts on more info. Meanwhile here’s the first line of Song For Chet:]

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Beginnings

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May 5th, 2019 Posted 8:40 am

On Sundays we do beginnings – all the Peter Abrahams novels including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker (I know – I promised last week never to use that word again, but what can you do? It’s a funny word.). Here’s the start of A FISTFUL OF COLLARS:

“Heard you drove another one off a cliff,” said Nixon Panero. He spat a thin brown stream of chewing tobacco into an empty paint can, or maybe not that empty. Yellow paint, the yellow of egg yolks, now with a brown swirl in the middle: there’s all kinds of beauty in life.

 

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The Books



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