I find the cover of this book a bit misleading. Blame it on the title though. One, (me and um, Karen, who made a joke at my expense about the type of book I was reading) might think that the title refers to an attractive woman, like the one who is being signified by the cover artwork. Like, hey this is a book about an attractive woman who causes some kind of problem, sort of like a typical James M. Cain novel. Actually the title refers to someone who is doing something 'clever' but in a way that some might find to be annoying. Like setting up a mob-tied junkie to take a murder beef in order to a) get away with a crime and b) to cause trouble for the people the junkie knows. The 'sexy' lady is just a pulp-fiction trope. Instead of thinking about the novel much I went to the OED to see if this mid-century use of the word cutie was standard, or if the way it gets used in some crime novels of this time period was a deviation from a certain form of an attractive person, and it was only a slang use that sort of came and went with the heydays of hard boiled crime novels. So what does the OED say about cutie?A cute person; esp. an attractive young woman. (In quot. 1768 the sense is ‘a superficially clever person’.) 1768 in A. Hare Georgian Theatre in Wessex (1958) iv. 72 Let shallow Cuties, who, in Love with Sound, Care not a Pin if Action's never found. 1917 D. G. Phillips S. Lenox II. viii. 204 It was the bartender. ‘Evening, cutie,’ he said. ‘What'll you have?’ ‘Some rye whiskey,’ replied Susan. 1923 R. D. Paine Comr. Rolling Ocean viii. 130 Her friends thought she was a cutey for turning the trick. 1927 ‘J. Barbican’ Confess. Rum-Runner xiv. 149 He goes about with a high-stepping cutie who's ace-high on the face and figure. 1927 Daily Express 5 Dec. 13 His sweetheart, a ‘cabaret cutie’. 1945 W. Plomer Dorking Thigh 20 Just like a young cutie Between the wars.And for cute, this is the second definition for the adjective form of the word:2.2 (orig. U.S. colloq. and Schoolboy slang.) Used of things in same way as cunning a. 6. Now in general colloq. use, applied to people as well as things, with the sense ‘attractive, pretty, charming’; also, ‘attractive in a mannered way’. I don't know exactly what this tells me, just that the word seems to be mixed up with attractiveness, shallowness and cunning for most of it's usage history. I'd be a bit more curious to know how the word has fared in everyday American usage, like did people really use the term in the derogatory manner of hard boiled crime novels at some point, or was this in itself a cute affectation of gruff sounding writers? If it was a normal usage, was it also still a fairly positive thing to say about someone for attractiveness? Or did it hold the dual meanings for awhile, like a verbal backhand? Of course, the word still has both connotations, but I think the dominant one is for attractiveness without any hidden derogatoriness. The cunning aspect of the word still gets used from time to time, but when you hear the word cute (or at least when I do) a certain image pops to mind that has nothing to do with cunningness, but brings to mind a particular type of woman. This immediate image that the word brings to mind is subverted by what the title signifies in the novel itself. Many French thinkers have had fascinations with mystery and crime novels and this subversion of semiotic signs probably could be something that some Frano-phile who jizzs over the thought of Barthes could write an excruciating and maddening chapter of a book about. If I were still in grad school 1.0 I could see using these very trite and pretty uninteresting thoughts about the use of the word, the title, author intentions, reader expectation and interpretation to be shape a very cute paper that I might think is very clever, but which anyone with their head not shoved up their ass would find yawn inducing. I may have been able to parlay these thoughts into a tiresome conversation with some cute girl who would only be half listening and waiting to interject some of her own thoughts about Nietzschean balderdash or Derrida's deference and how it relates to post-third wave feminist pornography and NGO's or something similar to that, which I would be half listening to, feigning a level of interest similar to the feigned interest she had in what I was saying while awaiting my own turn to ramble on about the kind of things that grad students in love with theory and their own cleverness ramble on about to the only people in the world who are willing to listen to them without rolling their eyes, telling them they are full of shit or attempting to punch them in the nose for being insufferable bores. But what about the book? It was good, it was Donald Westlake and he writes very readable novels and he generally rises above the standard fare for the crime genre and he does so here, too.
Bound Mar. 5, 2009 - Miami SunPostThe CutieHard Case Crime Brings Back a ClassicBy John HoodThe world already knows that Donald E. Westlake left behind at least one unpublished manuscript before he died back on New Year’s Eve, and if his life’s output is any indication, we’ve got at least a couple more of his books still to look forward to. Till Grand Central delivers his Get Real this summer, though, folks needing a fix would do wise to get with Hard Case Crime’s reprinting of the Grand Master’s very first title: The Cutie..Originally published back in 1960 as The Mercenaries but always intended to be called The Cutie, Westlake’s Edgar Award-nominated debut has all the hallmarks that made his illustrious career, from the fast pace to the hard boil to the grit-perfect coring of the Big Bad Apple.Yep, like the 50-some-odd other titles Westlake would go on to write, The Cutie is set on the mean streets of Manhattan, specifically the streets where rough always comes with tumble and threat usually means some kind of vow. Unlike many of Westlake’s wild-eyed rides, though, this stars neither the unintentionally comic heist man, John Dortmunder (who wouldn’t appear till 1970’s The Hot Rock), or the relentlessly ruthless Parker (who came about two years later in The Hunter, written under the pseudonym Richard Stark).It does however feature a bad cat named Clay who happens to have many of the characteristics of Westlake’s long-running series’ creations. First off, Clay’s a criminal. And he makes no apologies, ever. In fact, he’s a fixer for mob boss Ed Ganolese, which is to say he protects his outfit’s turf, even if it requires arranging a little accident or two. And saying “sorry” in a job like that surely would be a sign of weakness.Clay’s also a bit of a player, and he doesn’t dig getting pulled outta the sack, especially by a two-bit, junkie punk named Billy-Billy, who wakes him one 2 a.m. to spill over a murder. Seems Billy-Billy went on the nod and woke up to find a dead body lying beside him. That Billy-Billy couldn’t kill time is a given; that Clay’s gotta find out who really committed the crime becomes cause.See, the dead dame in question happens to have been a high-profile mistress to a very well-connected businessman and now the whole of the New York police force is on the case. This obviously throws a wrench into Ganolese’s operations. Further complicating matters is the fact that Billy-Billy not only was a low-level member of Eddie G’s mob; he’s got a guardian angel, and Clay’s forbidden to kill the patsy so bygones can get gone. I’ll not further spoil the story except to say it grips you from the get and doesn’t let up till a very efficient end. It’s also a dynamite example of what Westlake would become. Yeah, the Grand Master often made heroes of villains, but why shouldn’t a bad guy get to play it good every once in awhile?So go ahead and pick up The Cutie; hell, at $6.99 you don’t have much to lose. Then remember that the cat who’s telling this tale would one day write some of the best crime stories ever inked or put to celluloid. But if you can’t handle a man who manhandles the world, lay off. ‘Cause this stuff ain’t for sissies.Get with Donald Westlake’s The Cutie and other kickass Hard Case Crime titles at www.hardcasecrime.com.
Do You like book The Cutie (Hard Case Crime #53) (2009)?
This manuscript was discovered, undated, after science-fiction superstar Zelazny's death. The protagonist, art dealer Ovid Wiley, resembles Zelazny's princes of Amber--he makes his own rules and doesn't care too much about what other people think. When a dead body is found in his New York gallery, Ovid doesn't want to admit to the police that the victim was once his accomplice in art theft. Bailed out by the CIA in return for a little favor, he's sent to Italy, where he meets Maria, the victim's old girlfriend, now in love with a young priest who has disappeared, along with a helping of the Vatican's money. Several dead bodies later, Ovid and Maria are bound for Brazil, looking for the priest's brother, and finding only more trouble.
—Susan
I really liked this one. May be a contender for my favorite HCC title so far. And it also may have my vote for favorite cover. Mysteries where the criminals are acting as the detectives always appeal to me for some reason so I got a kick out of Clay's efforts to track down 'the cutie' who killed Mavis and framed Billy-Billy. Kind of like Killing Castro with Block, you can tell that this is a superior writer doing some early work and discovering what works for him. Westlake kept this a hardboiled mystery, but added enough humor to make it fun. I liked the way he portrayed Clay, also. Most crime stories with a criminal as the hero, or anti-hero, feel the need to make a point about how the main character really hates his job and is only doing it because of some kind of outside circumstances. Westlake makes the point several times that Clay actually enjoys what he does. He likes the nature of the work and the power he wields because of it. The subplot with him trying to deal with his girlfriend is a nice way to show how he really likes his criminal lifestyle.
—Kemper
The Cutie is early Westlake, and the name has been inexplicably changed from The Mercenaries, perhaps as a fig-leaf justification (not that any was needed) for the lovely cover, which unashamedly bears no resemblance to anything in the book, where a red-headed in a short dress notably fails to turn up and start loading a gun while standing athwart an open briefcase stuffed with cash. Never apologise, never explain.Clay is a highly-placed enforcer for the local crime organisation in New York. One night a strung-out junkie turns up on his doorstep with a story of a murdered woman and a set-up. Clay's first impulse is for the junkie to meet with an accident, but it turns out he has just one influential friend somewhere, so he has to be protected. The police turn up, the junkie vanishes and the cops begin to tear things up, forcing Clay to embark on a hunt for the real murderer, dodging bullets and frame-ups and trying to keep his love-life going.It's a fast, smooth, easy and satisfying read, though not as singular as books like Killy or 361. There are flashes of wit, but this isn't a comic crime caper, this is a twisted detective story with a criminal playing detective against his natural inclinations and better judgment. I enjoyed it a lot.
—Nigel
