I've not read a hell of a lot of Fischer, but what I've read,
I liked. It was style, mostly, I think. He wrote like a
newsman (I've no idea if he was one), kept it moving,
understated, Just a little punch when it seemed called
for.
Story . . .
I'd taken a break from a book show in Miami Beach (this was
back when I used to bother with that sort of thing) and
lugged a copy of THE RESTLESS HANDS over to a spot on Collins
Ave. where I could get a Cuban sandwich from a truly
spectacular Latina waitress (I am aging, but not yet dead). A
couple of chapters into it, I decided that I ought to go back
and pull all the Fischer work out of the bins we had set up.
In my opinion, it was underpriced.
When I got back, it was gone. At the inferior price. I asked
my partner (now wife) what happened. She said, "Some nice
looking white haired guy came by and bought all of them. He
left his card, in case we get any more."
By now, you've probably figured it out. Otto Penzler strikes
again!
Ah well, at least they went to a good home.
ASIDE TO BILL CRIDER: Walter shd be back online by now. Tell
him, next time I get to pick the luncheon venue. It'll be
McDonalds, probably. PB
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