Songs Spenser Taught Me

My introduction to Robert B. Parker came in the form of an aged paperback of The Godwulf Manuscript, its cover featuring a .45 automatic, a yellow rose, and bullet holes. “What a Find!” declared the L.A. Times. The name–as big as the title–read SPENSER. I got it for ninety-nine cents at a second-hand bookshop a few weeks after the unexpected death of my father. I was a sophomore at Auburn University, where I played football on scholarship, and I was, at the time, absolutely lost on all fronts.

Even before my dad had died, I wasn’t particularly having the time of my life in college. I had coaches who’d changed their mind about my talents and quickly used my father’s death to try to push me from the program and free up my scholarship. I spent a lot of time running laps and doing meaningless and demeaning drills. I was caught in that time between teenager and man and was still in need of a mentor to help me find my way out. Coaches were useless. My father was gone.

Spenser appeared in typical Spenser fashion: right when you need him most.

When someone asks me what made Spenser the character matter to me, the answer is pretty complicated. As a writer, I learned everything about hero-driven detective fiction–and just fiction in general–from Spenser and Robert B. Parker. Through Parker, I was introduced to the Big Three–Hammett, Chandler, and Macdonald, an exclusive group he’s now joined. Spenser would lead me to a career  …