Vintage Monday: Dark and Rainy

Hollywood at night 1950s

As a writer you'll be scoffed at if you if your plot relies even on a single coincidence. But coincidences happen.

We've been having unpleasant weather here in L.A. recently--hot and muggy. Then it started to rain. In August. It never rains in the summer in southern California. Our window for precipitation is roughly October-March.

It was drizzling when I drove over to the used bookstore to search for books on cocktails and bar tending for my next project. While there I checked the mystery paperback section for Ross Macdonald books I don't have yet. I found one: The Far Side of the Dollar.

MacDonald wrote my favorite type of mystery, hardboiled detective novels from the fifties to the seventies. The filmic equivalent of this genre is Film Noir. They won the name both for content and their dark visuals. It's ironic that the biggest names in the hardboiled genre--MacDonald, Dashiel Hammet, Raymond Chandler--set their stories in perpetually sunny Southern California.

At the bookstore I pulled The Far Side of the Dollar off the shelf, opened it, and read the first line:

It was August, and it shouldn't have been raining.

Weather Report

Southern California doesn't have a winter. That part of the year can resemble spring or fall, or even summer, but never winter. This year while several feet of snow covered most of the country we had eighty-plus degree temperatures, sunny skies, and wildfires. The rain arrived at last, and while it won't be enough to end our epic drought, it's better than nothing.

Rain does strange things to L.A. Needless to say, many people forget how to drive, but that's not all. My neighborhood doesn't have storm drains. I recall someone telling me the streets all slant toward the L.A. River and rainwater eventually finds its way there. I have no idea if this is true, but whenever it's raining the streets turn into canals. Especially the intersections. There's much splashing. You don't want to be a pedestrian around here, trust me.

I like the near-constant sunshine—it keeps me sane—but it's nice to have something else for a change. Gloomy weather inspires a cozy melancholy. My plan for the weekend is to stay inside, drink copious amounts of tea and cocoa, and edit. It would be nice to have the second draft of Dead Man and the Army of Frogs done by Monday.