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daily nebraskan
monday, april 13, 1981
Detective novelist follows tracks of excellence
By Pat Higgins
Vic Rat on Fire by George V. Higgins, Alfred Knopf
New York, 1981, 188 pages
Crime novels have a long and honorable tradition in
American fiction. The avatars of the genre were Dashiell
Hammet and Raymond Chandler, who wrote so well that
they have yet to be topped. However, the leading conten
der tor their crown is George V. Higgins (no relation),
who Time magainc calls "the best American crime novel
ist now at work." That's a sensible comment.
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Higgins' first book was The Friends of Fddie Coyle,
which immediately established him as an excellent re
porter of the seamy netherworld of criminals and cops,
lie has been prolific in the last decade, concentrating
chiefly on detective fiction with forays into more con
ventional fiction that arc basically boring.
However, his book on Watergate, Tfw Friends of
Richard .Xixon. was one of the best of the subject. He
analyzed the case from the perspective of a prosecuting
attorney, which is exactly what Higgins was in Boston. He
is now a criminal trial lawyer, which helps to add a dose
of realism to his writing.
The Rat on Fire is his latest work and it is, as usual,
an excellent book. The basic plot concerns a combination
lawyer-slumlord named Jerry Fein, who is having difficul
ties with his ghetto tenants. They don't pay their rent.
Dialogue specialist
His solution is to hire a professional arsonist to torch
the place and collect the insurance. Also involved are
a crooked fire marshall, honest cops, dishonest cops,
state senators, and other assorted low lifes who interact
with each other as the plot unfolds.
However, the plot line is almost incidental to the
character development. In this regard, Higgins is a mem
ber of the Raymond Chandler School of Detective Fic
tion rather than, say, the Agatha Christie style of whodun
its. Higgins' specialty is dialogue, which he does more suc
cessfully than anyone this side of Thomas (92 in the
Shade) McGuane.
In fact, in 77ie Rat on Fire, the characters don't
actually do all that much. Rather, they sit around and
talk about what they have just done or will be doing. It
is consistently witty stuff, too, even though they are
dealing with deadly serious matters.
Character pathos
It is rather difficult to find quotable sections in The
Rat on Fire, not because of a lack of interesting material,
but because of Higgins' tendency to use profane vernacu
lar. However, this may give a hint of his style.
"Still," Leo said, "I am not so stupid that even I do
not know that Four-flusher Fein is not your best legal
type counselor and could on his best clay probably
not get Jack Kennedy off on a charge that he murdered
Lee Harvey Oswald."
The fascinating aspect of all this is how each charac
ter's motives and interests become revealed as the novel
progresses. For instance, a slumlord is probably not the
most sympathetic figure in the world, but as his thoughts
and plans are revealed his actions do not seem totally
devoid of logic.
A rather droll running joke in The Rat on Fire con
cerns the Red Sox' chances, or rather their lack of
chances, for the pennant, as being the only agreement
both sides of the law can come to.
The great advantage of detective fiction is that the
reader can breeze through the book in a short amount of
time. Check out The Rat on Fire and find some quality
writing.
Artist takes pride in aggressive physical works
By Penelope M. Smith
II you could imagine a good ole boy involved in sculp
ture, Mac Whitney would fit the bill. Whitney was in
Lincoln to bring his sculpture, Tarkio, to the Great
Plains Sculpture Exhibition at the Sheldon Memorial Art
Gallery.
Whitney, 44, fits in well with one's picture of a man
involved in monumental sculptures. He is short and
powerful, with a weather-beaten face and r.eck covered
with lines like the road maps of Texas he uses to name his
works.
Clad in an old sweatshirt and jeans, he rolled red paint,
his favorite color, on his 10,000 pound sculpture and
spoke of his life and art.
lie has what he describes as an odd background. Ori
ginally from Kansas, where his father was a college pro
lessor, he did theater work and received an art minor
as an undergraduate. He then went on to get his Master
of Fine Arts in sculpture.
lie admits, though, that he had another idea for his
true vocat ion.
"What 1 really wanted to be was an inventor, but I
only made weird things that nobody ever heard of,"
he said. "One thing I did get from it though, I buy old
pieces of junk equipment and fix them and I can invent
any damn thing I haven't got to make it."
Lives alone
These days Whitney lives alone at Dead Dog Ranch,
his property outside of Houston. He has 12 trucks and
a crane. He had a wife once, but said wryly, "Before my
career opened up, she got tired of paying the rent and
left me." Then he grinned and said, "Now I get my girl
friends to help me paint."
Whitney spends seven days a week working on his
sculpture. When it's too wet or windy he paints with
oils.
Half the joy in Whitney's work is the physically de
manding job of making the sculpture. He cuts his work
from sheets of 10-by-40 feet rolled flat sheets of steel
and docs all the welding and cutting himself, from the
intricate sawcuts to bending girders, in a manner that
"would drive any steel man nuts."
The works take him an average of three and a half
weeks to finish. Sometimes he constructs a model about
18 inches high, and other times he just allows the works
to evolve.
"They're very physical pieces. I've arrived at them by
very close contact. I learn by doing them and they turn
out in a fashion that can't be enjoyed by sculptors who
design a work and then send it out to be done by a job
shop. There's no opportunity for pride that way."
Quite alive
Whitney's work is abstract, and according to some of
the passers-by at Sheldon, it doesn't fit in exactly with
their idea of nature. However, Whitney sees his work
as something quite alive.
"My pieces have a real presence about them, they're
dramatic and aggressive," he aid. "This work," he said,
gesturing toward Tarkio with his paint roller, "can be very
threatening because it's a territorial thing, like a great red
bird moving into another bird's territory. If you're that
other bird, you have to get him out, it doesn't matter
what he's there for."
Whitney is both easy going and unassuming, but is well
aware of the traditions of his art.
He also is not overly defensive about his work. A
woman, not realizing who he was, inquired scathingly how
long "this thing is going to be here." Whitney just laughed
and later said, "Gosh, she looked sour, didn't she?"
Whitney said he has definite ideas of how he wants
people to look at his work so that they can best
appreciate it.
"My work is all built in the round, you can't get the
feeling for it if you just look in one direction. Depending
on how you look at it, it can be linear or planar and the
shadows cast by the piece are important too.
Asked if there was anything else he ever wanted to
do with his life, Whitney laughed and then said seriously:
"No, just my art, that's all anybody ought to live for.
If you have it what else would you want to do?"
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