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4.0 out of 5 stars
Welcome To The Eight-Seven, April 7 2004
"From the river bounding the city on the north, you saw only the magnificent skyline. You stared up at it in something like awe, and sometimes you caught your breath because the view was one of majestic splendor..."Thus in 1955 Ed McBain begins his first-ever 87th Precinct crime novel, "Cop Hater." But before you start worrying if he's turning into Walt Whitman, he breaks off his rumination of urban beauty with this kicker: "There was garbage in the streets." And thank goodness for the garbage, or else we wouldn't need the bulls of the 87th Precinct to clean it up. "Cop Hater" reads like pulp fiction, perhaps because that was the genre Evan Hunter, the real-life writer responsible for the McBain pseudonym, worked in. "Cop Hater" was a unique sort of novel all the same, because as Hunter writes in his new introduction, it presented as a protagonist/hero not so much a central character (though here as elsewhere in the series, Det. Steve Carella is the main figure on the case) as a police squad room. McBain spends a lot of time depicting the squad room in this book, dwelling on physical details that he would gloss over in future volumes. This time at least, he and his readers were venturing into unusual territory. For those familiar with the 87th Precinct stories, there are plenty of recognizable signposts: Carella's slanting eyes, long and ominous descriptions of the weather, McBain's obsession with the ethnic make-up of his characters and the WASPy prejudices of others (one witness tells Carella she would prefer to tell her story to an "American" detective after realizing he's of Italian ancestry.) You can see the mainstay elements taking shape, which makes this a must-read for fans. The bare bones nature of the crime itself (a series of killings targeting 87th Precinct detectives) may leave readers used to juicier 87th Precinct plotlines wanting more. The language of the streets is considerably cleaner and less realistic than later volumes. Bert Kling is not a detective yet. Andy Parker and Meyer Meyer have yet to arrive. But it's a nice introduction to the 87th Precinct, a tough, merciless world of bad people, good people, and lots of grey in-betweeners. The cast of detectives at the Eight-Seven include a few who aren't around later, like Carella's first partner, who has some issues at home that seem to be distracting his work effort. Another is the precinct commander, an out-of-it old-timer named Frick who "was a tired man when he was 20" and shrugs his way through the violence around him. There's a nosy, unscrupulous reporter named Savage who makes trouble pestering gang members but insists he serves the community. McBain works in a resonant feeling of the times, the mid-1950s where open windows were the most common form of tenement air conditioning and the most dangerous juvenile weaponry were homemade "zip guns." One of the good things about "Cop Hater" is the center story is simple and resolved in a satisfying manner. Another is that the story leaves you wanting more. Just how much more no one could have predicted in 1955, but considering there's now been 53 87th Precinct novels, "Cop Hater" probably wasn't a bad idea for a book.
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