The New Black Mask (No 8)
Number 8
“John D. MacDonald: An Interview,” “Night Ride” copyright © 1987 by John D. MacDonald Publishing, Inc.
“Dial Axminster 6-400,” copyright © 1987 by James Ellroy.
“Flotsam and Jetsam,” copyright © 1987 by John Lutz.
“Telex,” copyright © 1987 by Martin J. Miller, Jr.
“Skin Deep,” copyright © 1987 by Sara Paretsky.
“Stacked Deck.” copyright © 1987 by Bill Pronzini.
“Family Business,” copyright © 1987 by W. S. Doxey.
“ ’Ead All About It!” copyright © 1987 by Sol Newman.
“Spy for Sale,” copyright © 1987 by Edward D. Hoch.
“Looking for Lauren,” copyright © 1987 by Joseph Lisowski.
“Murder in Store,” copyright © 1985 by Peter Lovesey.
“Shhh Shhh, It’s Christmas,” copyright © 1987 by Carolyn Banks.
“To Florida,” copyright © 1987 by Robert Sampson.
John D. MacDonald: An Interview
John D. MacDonald was born in Pennsylvania and attended the University of Pennsylvania, Syracuse University, and Harvard Graduate School of Business Administration. He served six years in the army in World War II. He is married and has one son and five grandchildren residing in New Zealand. Since he began writing in 1946 and has published seventy-five books and over six hundred short stories, novelettes, and articles. His work has been translated into sixteen languages, and his books have sold over ninety million copies worldwide.
NBM: You began your writing career producing stories for the pulps, a large writers’ market that no longer exists. How important was your pulp-writing apprenticeship, and how has the demise of the pulps affected genre fiction — especially the mystery?
MacDonald: I began my career writing stories for the pulp magazines as well as the so-called slicks, in the first years — 1946 to 1950 — I had stories published in American Magazine, Argosy, Colliers, Cosmopolitan, Story Magazine, Liberty, This Week, and the Toronto Star Weekly, in addition to a wide range of pulp magazines. I do not think that the demise of the pulps has affected the quality of today’s fiction writing as much as has the demise of those slick-paper magazines, which used so many pieces of fiction each year. In the case of The Saturday Evening Post, Collier’s, and Liberty alone, a market for seven hundred pieces of fiction a year at quite good rates disappeared seemingly overnight. Thus in the general field of the novel, in all categories, some very clumsy work is being published. There is no training area. The university courses lean so heavily on subjectivity that the prose becomes muddy and pretentious. I am sent many sets of bound galleys in hopes I will make some useful comment for public purposes. I rarely have to read beyond page ten.
NBM: You were trained as a businessman at Harvard and used your business skills to become one of the most successful novelists of your time. To what degree have the instincts and mindset of the businessman affected your fiction?
MacDonald: I can see only a very remote relationship between my formal education and my writing. I have the instincts of the businessman only when I am involved with the problems of everyday life. I am often shocked at the gullibility of some of the members of my peer group when their innocence in investing in tax shelters is revealed in the press. I do not have the mindset of a businessman. Their scope, like that of doctors and lawyers, is for the most part quite narrow.
NBM: There is a trend now, demonstrated by recent novels of Robert B. Parker and Elmore Leonard, for writers of mysteries to attempt what Parker calls the “Big Book” — the novel that will transcend the bounds of genre fiction and attract attention as a mainstream work. Are you concerned that because of your success as a mystery novelist your works will be neglected over the long haul and categorized by critics as ephemeral?
MacDonald: I think that trying to puff a small story into a big book is a mistake. Books and short pieces of fiction should be permitted to find their own proper length. My most recent novel, Barrier Island, is not long. Knopf expressed dismay that it was not a thicker book. I did the story the way it felt right to me. Puffing it would have upset the rhythm of it. I must confess to being a little distressed by your patronizing tone in categorizing me as a mystery novelist. We Americans feel more comfortable with categories and filing systems, and butterflies pinned to the board in proper order of species, I guess. I am pleased to write novels of mystery and suspense, of course. But at the risk of boring you, here is a list of my published novels which do not fall into that category: Wine of the Dreamers (1951), The Damned (1952), Ballroom of the Skies (1952), Cancel All Our Vows (1953), All These Condemned (1954), Contrary Pleasure (1954), Cry Hard, Cry Fast (1955), A Man of Affairs (1957), The Deceivers (1958), The Executioners (1958), Clemmie (1958), Please Write for Details (1959), The Crossroads (1959), Slam the Big Door (1960), The End of the Night (1960), A Key to the Suite (1962), A Flash of Green (1962), The Girl, The Gold Watch & Everything (1963), I Could Go on Singing (1963), The House Guests (1965), No Deadly Drug (1968), Condominium (1977), Nothing Can Go Wrong (1981), One More Sunday (1984), Barrier Island (June 1986), A Friendship (November 1986).
Insofar as “being neglected over the long haul and categorized by critics as ephemeral,” I could not care less. It has been my personal observation that those members of my peer group who get terribly earnest about their literary immortality are the ones least likely to achieve any. And, of course, any writer who pays attention to critics is an ass. I write because I enjoy the hell out of it, and if I couldn’t ever sell another word, I would keep right on amusing myself with it.
NBM: You are known as a writer with a social conscience, concerned about environmental issues, corporate greed, economic abuses, immorality on a large scale. Do you consider yourself a social evangelist?
MacDonald: What a dreadful phrase that is — “social evangelist!” I would not invite one of those into my kitchen for a beer. Any intelligent person who is indifferent to the environmental issues, indifferent to the corporate greed which pried unearned billions out of NASA and the defense program, indifferent to a lethargic, self-important bureaucracy which spends two dollars on itself out of every five appropriated for social programs — that person is not living in the world. He is not experiencing life. He is as dead upstairs as he soon will be in toto.
NBM: Are you interested in politics as an active participant?
MacDonald: I have supported a few — a very few — politicians I respect. But only with donations. I am not a group person. I like to be alone, work alone, so that both blame and praise are undiluted.
NBM: Writers’ organizations are in the news lately — The American Writers Congress and the PEN conference, for example — largely due to their interest in national and international political matters. As a former president of MWA, do you have any observations on the role of a writers’ group and the matters writers’ organizations ought to address?