Review by New York Times Review
AFTER watching a bare-chested dentist trekking through the jungle by torchlight to shake a spear at a sunburned accountant in a loincloth, you might think television reality shows were beyond satire. But that would be underestimating the puckish wit of Donald E. Westlake, who died of a heart attack last New Year's Eve but still leaves us laughing with his final novel, a rollicking crime caper that pulls the pants right off the reality TV industry. "Get Real" brings back John Dortmunder, the mastermind of a gang of Runyonesque crooks who have now blundered their way through 14 novels, beginning in 1970 with "The Hot Rock." Under his own name and various pseudonyms, Westlake wrote nearly a hundred novels, story collections and screenplays over a career of almost 50 years. But when people speak of his "beloved" characters, these are the rogues they're talking about. There's a neat pattern to the heists his endearing crooks pull off - although the guys, who think of themselves as working stiffs, prefer to call them "jobs." To wit: the gang gets wind of a fabulous treasure (like bundles of money) held in some impregnable fortress (like a bank) and, after executing some wondrously clever maneuvers to steal the prize, are thrown off their game through some incredible stroke of hilarious bad luck. But while the formula is clear-cut and familiar, only Westlake seems capable of pulling it off with the perfect balance of technical ingenuity and high-dudgeon humor. The more strenuously outraged he becomes at some social or political absurdity, the more cutting his satiric wit. Provoked here to delighted horror by the mindless reality shows running wild on television, Westlake extends the concept rationally, imagining the consequences if professional crooks were engaged to illustrate their skills on prime time. ("Real criminals committing a real crime, right there in front of your eyes!") Doug Fairkeep, a producer of such shows, loves the idea when he hears it from the nice lady cab driver (mother of the gang's longtime wheelman, Stan Murch) who picks him up at Kennedy Airport. And before you know it, "The Gang's All Here," the first of many laughable working titles, has been greenlighted for production. Dortmunder, the "slope-shouldered, glum-looking individual" who functions as the brains of this outfit, can't quite grasp the inverted logic of a reality show. "When you're committing a felony," he patiently explains to Stan's mom, "the idea is, you don't want witnesses. What you want is privacy." But she points out that technological advances ("Security. ID. Tracking. Records of everything. Global positioning. Radio chips") have made it so tough for them to practice their profession they'd be wise to consider a career change. To justify going legit, Dortmunder comes up with a plan for the gang to pull off two parallel heists - one for the camera and another in which they break into the sealed-off quarters of the TV company's production studio to siphon the cash that's been stockpiled for behind-the-scenes payoffs. Once the gang signs on for the series, Westlake tempers his amused contempt for the creative product Doug Fairkeep produces with a kind of appalled admiration for the brazen flair of Doug's exploitative practices. There's a gleeful smack to the back-and-forth chatter of Doug and Marcy Waldorf, the scriptwriter who isn't technically a "writer" (otherwise she'd be able to join a union and be paid a living wage) but merely a source of helpful suggestions. "You're young and healthy," Doug says, spelling it out for her. "You don't want all those encumbrances, health insurance and pension plans." AS much as Westlake is tickled by the impious hypocrisy of "unscripted" reality shows, this master craftsman can also appreciate the hard work that goes into the production of such garbage. And, fake or not, there's also something sweet about the pride Dortmunder and his fellow crooks take in their own work. Even Tiny, the gang's big, dumb muscle man, is "impressed" by their nonacting teamwork. "I looked at those guys in that back room, I believed them," he says of the roles they slip into when they're at the OJ, the Upper West Side bar where the gang always meets. And where, death be damned, they're planning their next job right now. Marilyn Stasio writes the Crime column for the Book Review.
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [October 27, 2009]
Review by Booklist Review
*Starred Review* The late, lamented Westlake was in top form with the fifteenth and final installment of this series of comic capers that began with The Hot Rock in the 1970s. Dortmunder and his camera-shy band get mixed up with a reality TV show that is even more fraudulent than its felonious subjects. Get Real productions will pay them $20K apiece plus per diem to film a real heist. Reluctant wage slaves, the gang attempts to sweeten the deal with a little supplementary larceny, but when the producers swell their ranks with a corn-fed telegenic gun moll and a crook from central casting to spy on them, who's two-timing who? As cameras roll all around them, can the crooks avoid incarceration, or worse cancellation? With brilliant restraint and perfectly pitched deadpan dialogue, Westlake keeps his characters dancing precariously along the knife's edge of absurdity. Reading his ever-more-colorful descriptions of the gang's gargantuan muscleman, Tiny (with a head that didn't make you think of Easter Island so much as Halloween Island ), is a sheer delight, only tempered by the knowledge that this is last call at the OJ Bar & Grill one final round of Amsterdam Liquor Store bourbon ( Our Own Brand ) for the road. Here's to crime: how sweet it is!--Wright, David Copyright 2009 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
A reality-show company aptly titled Get Real recruits the delightfully understated John Dortmunder and his merry men for a heist in this clever Dortmunder novel (after What's So Funny?), a worthy final word from Westlake (1933-2008). The producer of the prospective series, Doug Fairkeep, reveals himself to be both cynical and naive, a combination that makes him an excellent foil for the guys. Naturally, the gang has to make this gig pay more than what's offered, as much for the fun of it as for the extra cash. While Get Real helps them map out a "real" robbery, the boys are mapping out a real robbery-of some of the company's "hidden assets." The thinking is that Get Real can hardly come after them to retrieve cash that it can't admit that it has. The game plan changes nearly hourly, and the outcome is anything but certain. The assorted idiosyncrasies of the group's members and the interactions among them will rouse chuckles from even jaded readers. (July) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Library Journal Review
Book 14 in the late Westlake's (d. 2008) John Dortmunder series; William Dufris reads. (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
Dortmunder's last caper. When Stan Murch's mom, a New York cabbie, pitches her son's role as a gang's getaway driver to a fare, a reality-TV executive, he suggests that they take a meeting. After Stan talks it over with the rest of the gangDortmunder, Kelp, Tiny and the KidDoug Fairkeep offers big money to film them planning and executing a heist. They needn't worry about legal retribution, he promises, because none of their faces will be shown. Still, Dortmunder insists they steal something from Fairkeep's company so they can say the bosses knew about it if things go awry. They settle on burgling the company's Varick Street warehouse. As usual with Dortmunder, there are complications. For one thing, Fairkeep has inserted a real actor in the script to act as a mole, along with a gun moll for sex appeal. As the set designer replicates the gang's meeting place on the upper floor of the warehouse, Fairkeep's boss keeps renaming, then canceling, then reinstating the project. Kelp keeps entering Fairkeep's apartment without benefit of a key. And a production assistant keeps writing dialogue for the gang's ad-libbed scenes. Holes are drilled, alarms are cut, lies are told and, for once, Dortmunder and his pals waltz off with a nice payday. Westlake, who died this past New Year's Eve, left 14 Dortmunder capers. This one is as beguiling as the rest (What's So Funny, 2007, etc.), with the bonus of exquisitely placed jibes at reality TV. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
