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Death is Not the End (The Long, Long Goodbye)

Private Eyes Who Just Won’t Stay Dead (Even If Their Creators Are)

“No question about it. Once you die, you really start losing control of things.”
Mike Hammer in Murder, My Love (2019),
by Mickey Spillane & Max Allan Collins

That whirring sound coming from the mystery section of the local cemetery these days? It might just be another dead author spinning in his grave…

In the last few years, we’ve been subjected to an orgy of literary reincarnation (some call it “continuation literature;” some tag it them as “zombie franchises”) as beloved detective characters created by often equally beloved but no-longer-with-us authors are exhumed and once again forced to go through their paces, with varying degrees of success, sometimes for years and years. We all knew the goodbye would be long, and we never suspected it would be this long.

In a few instances, the results have been honorable and respectful; sincere and heartfelt tributes; literary debts repaid by current authors to honour their own personal heroes.

Sometimes, however, the motivation is far less compelling. Not all these “ghost writers” are quite so honourable. Often it seems to be more (or even exclusively about) the bottom line: grab a hired pen, squeeze out a book with the deceased author’s name and their character in extra large type featured prominently on the cover, slip in a more discreet byline for the actual writer, and turn a quick buck while the franchise still has name value.

It’s a formula that the always commercially savvy (and still living) James Patterson has milked well in the last decade or so. And he isn’t even dead.

FURTHER INVESTIGATIONS

Respectfully compiled by Kevin Burton Smith.

 

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