One Lonely Night has always been a favorite of mine among Spillane’s novels. That being said, a little of Mick goes a long way with me, so I usually only get around to re-reading him about once a year. When I do, I often return to One Lonely Night, mainly for the opening chapter. It is as atmospheric and splendid example of the hardboiled detective that you’ll ever read. It is a wonderful piece of writing in its own way, Spillane boiling everything down to the bare essentials. Spillane is rarely given credit for good writing, but this first chapter will knock your socks off.

On the surface this is a typical Mike Hammer novel. It is about Communists and the NKVD. There is violence so over the top that it begs comparisons with comic book stuff — which is how Hammer was originally conceived. The whole tale is so raw it nearly burns your hands. Mike Hammer and his .45 set out to avenge a girl’s death, and save society from Communism. But there is an underpinning to this one missing in the other Hammer novels. That underpinning begins from the opening moments, one lonely night on a bridge as Mike Hammer remembers what a judge said about him, and wonders if it’s true.

All that rumination takes a detour on said bridge, however, when Hammer comes to the rescue of a girl with his trusted .45. But Hammer is unable to prevent her death, as she goes over the side anyway. That’s when the reader is plunged head-first into a brutal Mike Hammer thriller about Commies in America and the NKVD. At one point late in the book, Velda is hanging naked while Hammer rescues her. One Lonely Night is violent, pulpy, and just raw enough to have a few faint of heart complain. But Hammer’s rumination on that bridge is returned to at the end, and that separates One Lonely Night from some of the others. In essence Hammer is trying to decide if he is as bad as the guys he enjoys taking out. His conclusion befits the character of Mike Hammer, and the persona of Mickey Spillane.

Spillane certainly had something, and he could write — whether people like it or not. It’s ironic that the great Ross Macdonald so disliked Spillane’s work, considering how hurt he was that Raymond Chandler was quite critical of Macdonald’s own early work. Many don’t care for Spillane’s narrative style — some say he didn’t even have one, but they’re wrong. Spillane was a pulp writer, through and through, and long after the other guys elevated the genre, he continued to write pulp. Even here, with Hammer more unhinged than usual, it reads at times like a violent and spicy comic, yet with flashes of some great pulp.

Mike Hammer was rooted in the blue collar, and Americanism. Ayn Rand was a fan, believing Spillane’s Hammer had greater meaning as a statement on the progressive threat to society than Spillane would ever cop to. In fact, he would have dismissed it, saying he just wrote for the bread. Yet the fact that Spillane ran a thread through One Lonely Night about Mike Hammer wondering if his soul was as black as those he fought, is heady stuff when you think about it. One might say it suggests that despite protests to the contrary, Spillane did have an inkling that what Hammer represented was a bit more than he ever let on.

Once accused of writing porn, that argument seems utterly ridiculous in today’s society. The argument that he wasn’t much of a writer can also be dismissed, considering Rand and a slew of modern writers, including Max Collins, greatly admire his work. That only leaves the Conservative tone of Spillane’s Mike Hammer. It is sometimes touched upon when critics discuss why Spillane is so loathed by some, and I think it rings true.

An example in point is how often, when people talk about a Spillane book, or a Richard Prather book, they mention it. It’s interesting to note, however, that Dashiell Hammett’s more subtle communist underpinnings to Red Harvest, and to a lesser degree, The Glass Key, are so rarely mentioned at all, even by the same folks. I can easily understand someone with a dislike of pulp cringing at Spillane’s raw narrative style of storytelling, but I do believe that all too often it is used as an excuse to mask the true reason for such a vehement reaction to his work. I think there is room for either viewpoint woven into a detective story, either along the peripheral edges, or in the story’s underpinnings. As long as it’s a good tale well-told, a great ride, I can enjoy it. If I could not, I'd never read Parker, or MacDonald, or the other Macdonald.

I do understand that Spillane isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, and I usually get bombarded with snarky comments about him when I bring him up in some circles, but whether you like him as a writer or not, or dislike his politics or not, for whichever or whatever reason, once you read the opening chapter to One Lonely Night, if you're honest, you’re unlikely to be in the camp that declares Spillane’s incredible success a fluke, or opines that having at one time seven of the top ten best sellers world-wide in this genre, was just luck. I don't do the really hardboiled violent stuff myself, preferring a softer boil, but Spillane found a niche, and no one, and I do mean no one, ever did the thing he did any better. I sort of like it that I share a birthday with this cat, because it means I'm in good company. ( )

The first chapter is some of Spillane's best writing, and it starts the story off with a bang. Throughout the tale, we get a better picture of the character of Hammer than we got in the first three Hammer novels. In this one, he's up against the Communists of the early 1950s, and to say he hates them is a huge understatement. Spillane understood the harm socialism causes a society, and makes no bones about telling it like it is. Of course, here in 21st century America, at least half the country is clueless to the evils of this corrupt system, as many reviewers of this book display by calling it dated. One such reviewer wrote that it was too anti-communist. If you like the freedoms you enjoy in your pursuit of happiness in this country, you might want to pull your head out of the sand, and recognize that socialism in all its forms is bad, and we're almost up to our necks in it now. Well, off the soap box now. This is supposed to be a review. If you're PC, you won't like this book. Mike Hammer doesn't see gray areas. There's good, and there's bad, and he battles against the bad, making a thrilling read. ( )

A fun noire that turns into a political thriller. Lots of people just see a hard nosed dick in Mike Hammer. But I see the tolls of war in him as well. This was a great one. ( )

Classic hard boiled novel ( )

The pace in this one was a bit slower than what I usually expect from a Spillane novel. The plot revolves around a Communist conspiracy and some missing government documents, and even the federal government seems to be involved. In addition, Mike Hammer is hired by a rising politician that a lot of people in the city look up to. And it all starts with a woman jumping off a bridge. You would think that would certainly make for a good mystery. It was just ok. As I said, the pace at times was a little on the slow side. Plus, the Communist plot allows Spillane to go on a red scare rant which does get a little heavy at times. And yet, it does capture some of the hysteria going on in the 50s when it came to Communists. I did like it a bit more at the end when Mike Hammer, as traditional in mysteries, unravels the plot. There are a couple of interesting twists that kept me reading, which I won't reveal here. But overall, not the best Hammer novel. As usual, you get your dose of violence and sex. As I usually tell my readers, this is not for the PC crowd, but if you like your mysteries hard boiled, then this fits right in. ( )