~Post by MysteryPeople Crime Fiction Coordinator Scott M.
When the film Winter’s Bone came out, fans of the book were happy for two reasons. First, it was a rich, well made, and faithful adaptation of the novel, and second, we all thought “Finally, everybody will know Daniel Woodrell.”
Daniel Woodrell’s writing came to my attention through all the writers I admired. George Pelecanos, Dennis Lehane, Meagan Abbott; Woorell was their favorite. The great James Crumley was a suppporter. When practically every idol I had sung his praises, I finally picked up a copy of Winter’s Bone.
Most readers love Woodrell for his use of language. It is concise and poetic at the same time. He uses the exact right words economically. He doesn’t seem to do it for pace like a suspense writer, he does it to relate the exact feel and tone, like a poet. It’s about hitting directly, yet subtly, to the emotions.
I read him for the people. He chronicles the plight of the working (when they can find work) poor. He introduced crime fiction elements into his work when an instructor told him he had a gift for writing about the underclass, but that there’s no market for that in general fiction. He writes about them like nobody else, mainly using the crime element to look at the balance they try to find between survival and dignity. He also captures place, most notably the Ozarks. As someone who grew up in Missouri, a little north of there, his sharp descriptions bring back the smell of dead leaves and the gritty warmth of a barrel fire on a cold day.
It wasn’t long before I was hitting used bookstore’s for Daniel Woodrell’s out of print ouvre.
Last year, at the San Fransisco Bouchercon, I got to meet the man. I was introduced by another writing god, Reed Farrel
Coleman. He proved the bookseller theory of the darker the subject matter, the nicer the guy who writes it. He was laid back, soft spoken, and affable. Like his books, he was a man of few words, but those words mattered. He was amused at people who were offended by the squirrel skinning scene in Winter’s Bone. “In Arkansas, it’s the state cuisine.”
He was kind enough to agree to call in this summer when Mystery People’s Hard Word Book Club discussed The Bayou Trilogy, his collection of books featuring Cajun detective, Rene Shade. The first book, Under The Bright Lights, was released just six months before his friend and colleague, James Lee Burke, debuted his Louisiana detective, Dave Roubicheouix. The similar setting allowed Dan to be overshadowed. I enjoyed telling him that people now ask about Burke because they heard he writes like him.
This year at the St. Louis Bouchercon, Woodrell was even more revered. He was known by the fans as well as the writers. The younger authors, particularly the ones in the rural noir subgenre, looked at him like a sports legend. When I grabbed a stool to join some of the young guns for a beer, one of them said, “Daniel Woodrell just sat there.”
Outlaw Album, his recently released collection of short stories, is a great introduction to him, covering most of the moods and subject matter he’s written about for over a quarter decade. He takes the backwoods Gothic to new twisted heights with “Uncle,” an unsettling story I still haven’t shaken after I read it four years ago. “The Echo Of Neighborly Bones” looks at the connection between violence and social emasculation. He even returns to his Civil War novel, Woe To Live On, to explore how the acceptance of death in battle later returns to haunt.
We’re happy to be hosting Dan Saturday October 22nd at 7PM with two of his buddies, Frank Bill, who has hit the scene running with his rural noir collection Crimes In Southern Indiana, and our gregarious friend of the store, Craig Johnson. Some come join us and get to know Daniel Woodrell better. I can tell you the experience is a pleasure.
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