RUMBLE TUMBLE

By Joe R. Lansdale
Mysterious Press/Warner, $6.50, pb reprint

In my neck of the woods, there's almost nothing so worth celebrating as a new Hap and Leonard novel by Joe Lansdale. This one shows off my favorite East Texas balladeer at his leanest and meanest, as Hap's latest flame - the fiery Brett Sawyer - asks him to help rescue her daughter, Tillie, from her life of prostitution in a hole by the name of Hootie Hoot, Oklahoma, where things have apparently just gotten worse for her after attempting to leave. 

This information comes to Brett by way of a strange duo, the well-dressed and eloquently talkative midget, Red, and his less-than-brainy thug, Wilber: a couple of low-rent varmints infinitely worse than many who scam their way out of Southern literature. Offered this possibly misleading information for a price, Brett brings in Hap to protect her interests; and before he knows it Hap has no choice but to bring in his best buddy, the crack-house-burning Leonard.

 Now, if you've read Hap and Leonard novels before, you know that Hap is white and straight as an arrow, while Leonard is black and gay. You know that the two love each other like brothers and would do just about anything the other asked, griping the whole time, but never failing to finish the task, no matter how violent and how unjust a retribution they're likely to face. The Hap and Leonard novels, in case you haven't read them, are as follows: Savage Season, Mucho Mojo, The Two-Bear Mambo, and Bad Chili. Go read them. Now. You won't be disappointed by any of Lansdale's work, but these crazy, human, wonderful characters represent the pinnacle of his creativity.

 The three pay a tense visit to the Oklahoma brothel, but it turns out that Tillie's been banished to The Farm, an over-the-border desert hideout of the Bandito Supremes (take Hell's Angels, mix in the Outlaws and the Colombian drug cartel and you get the sense), where her life is likely to now hang by a thread. But the conniving midget's dog and pony show turns out to be more dangerous than Hap figured, as the eloquent little crook has no problem turning facts to his advantage and playing both sides against the middle, especially for a buck or to save his miserable hide. The result is a wild and woolly plane ride into the remote desert stronghold, a bullet-riddled climax, and an ending almost as bleak and real as everything that came before. 

Hap and Leonard may well become as loved as any characters Faulkner ever created, and with good reason: in their voices you can hear the rhythm of the South, and through their eyes you can see both justice and injustice; though it's not always a rosy-tinted picture. By far.