In
my reading lifetime, I'm sure I have read well over a thousand books.
Maybe close to two thousand. Hell, counting comic books and magazine
novelizations and re-reads, maybe more than that.
Many
of these I recollect vividly and completely. Many others I remember
liking to various degrees but can only specifically recall certain
parts, like the title and author perhaps, or maybe some key,
memorable scenes.
Such
was the case with THE DOCTOR'S WIFE by Mike Avallone. I remembered
the title and byline and a few scenes that stuck with me—and,
mostly, I remembered liking it a lot. It was published in 1963, I'm
guessing I read it two or three years later. I would have been about
seventeen. I was just then learning to watch for the Avallone byline
(one of the first cases where the author's name started to catch my
eye as quick or quicker than the title) because I knew it would
likely be something I'd enjoy.
Okay,
for any of you who might be smirking and chuckling at this point
because you've been fed the Kool-aid all these years about what a
lousy writer Avallone was, how his phrasing came to be called
“Avallone-isms” because of the quirky metaphors and puns and
sometimes wacky plotting he employed ... Nuts to you. All I know is that the
guy could tell a damn good story and I liked the way he did it.
Especially during this period—the late Fifties through the Sixties.
He was at his most prolific (he didn't call himself “the fastest
typewriter in the east” for nothing) and at the peak of his craft.
Somewhere
around the time I read THE DOCTOR'S WIFE, I was also reading Avallone
work such as STATION SIX – SAHARA (movie tie-in), MANNIX (TV
tie-in) and also the TV tie-ins for MAN FROM U.N.C.L.E and GIRL FROM
U.N.C.L.E. It was also around this time that—to my astonishment,
since I was gobbling up everything and anything private eye related—I
first discovered Ed Noon in THE FEBRUARY DOLL MURDERS. The doubly
surprising part about this was that, by then, Mike had penned fifteen
previous Noons and I hadn't come across any, except maybe a magazine
excerpt from LUST IS NO LADY.
Since
all of the above titles were published in the mid-60s, some three or
four years after DOCTOR'S WIFE, I can only assume that I picked up
DOCTOR'S either second hand or buried deep in the back of a spinner
rack slot. At any rate, once I had it in my hot little hands I tore
through it in one or two settings and came away very satisfied.
The
thing was, DOCTOR'S WIFE was put out by Beacon Books, one of – if
not THE – top publishers of “adult” paperbacks (the other
biggie being Midwood) at the time. By today's standards, it should be
noted, these were pretty tame. Yet for all his success up to that
point in the mystery/crime and media tie-in fields, here was Avallone
cranking out “sex books” and signing his own name to them. By my
count, he did about ten of them through the early/mid Sixties.
And
here's the kicker: In my humble opinion, some of these “adult”
titles represent some of his best writing. It was obvious that he
took them serious and treated them accordingly. Years later, I had
occasion to mention this to Mike and he was pleased to hear that
assessment. So much so that when Gary Lovisi at Gryphon Books
re-published the adult-themed MITZI later in Mike's career, he
honored me by asking me to write a Foreward for it. Which I did, and
again took the opportunity to opine on the strength of his writing in
the adult field.
There's
no better example of this than THE DOCTOR'S WIFE. The prose is lean
and straightforward (not much of the quirky touches that would gain
traction in Mike's later work), the dialogue snaps, and the sense of
time and place (New York City in the late 50s/early 60s) is spot on.
Written in first person, it revolves around one Vince Allen, a
struggling actor who works as the overnight manager of a greasy spoon
to make ends meet, and chases acting try-outs during the day. Each
morning after finishing his greasy spoon gig, Vince walks through
Central Park to clear his head and put the smells of the steamy
diner behind him. On one of these mornings, in a rather dramatic
fashion, he encounters the stunningly beautiful and mysterious Erika
Paul—who turns out to be the doctor's wife of the title—as she is
out walking her Irish setter, Apollo. From there Vince's life will
never be the same. Naturally, he and Erika have further meetings in
the park and quickly become passionate, star-crossed lovers.
As
this involvement becomes more heated and more complex—they can
never be completely together, Erika tells him, for reasons she won't
explain in detail other than to say that her husband is a powerful,
dangerous, insanely jealous man—Vince is also torn by other aspects
of his life. He's gotten tangled up with Emily, who ditches her
current boyfriend—an innocent “kid”, another wanna-be actor
whom Vince has been mentoring—because she claims to have fallen
hopelessly for Vince. Before long, they're ensuing trysts (Emily
can't seem to get enough sex) causes her to be “late” and that
adds even more stress to Vince's life. He begins shopping around for
someone willing to perform a back alley-type abortion. In the course
of all this—while his obsession for Erika grows and Vince longs for
every possible moment they can sneak to be together—there are some
very nice “filler” scenes involving co-workers and clientele at
the greasy spoon and the world of acting try-outs. Avallone's
writing really shines here. He seems to have a deep affinity for the
whole actor/acting thing and—although I never thought to ask him
about it in any of our exchanges—it seems like he might have lived
that life for a time, or was very close to someone who did.
The
book ends in tragedy. I can't say too much more without spoiling key
story elements and ruining some some very suspenseful, exciting
twists at the climax.
The
closing passages wrap it up this way:
“In
my mind I still walk back through Central Park on my way home from
work ... my Erika waits for me there. I see her coming down the paved
walk with her long, flowing black hair.
Erika—with
Apollo loping easily before her.
Erika
Paul. The dame with the dog.”
I
mention this because it also conveys what Mike told me he wanted the
book to be titled ... The Dame And The Dog. He fought hard for
that but, in the end, couldn't persuade the Beacon powers to go with
it.
At
this point, I guess it doesn't really matter. Whatever it's called,
it's a damned enjoyable read. It's hard to come by these days (after
all these years I had to special order a copy, just to re-visit it
and see if it held up; which it does, as I guess this post
demonstrates)—but if you can get your hands on a copy, I urge you
to give it a try.
Above
all, never be discouraged to give Avallone a try based on the snarky
comments and ridicule you may have heard about his writing—often
from those unworthy to carry his typewriter ribbon. Yes, some
cringe-worthy “Avallone-isms” certainly exist. But far
outweighing those are the many tales he spun that were/are immensely
readable and entertaining.