Review of A Fine Dark Line by Joe Lansdale

It’s a slow process, but a steady process: coming to the realization Joe Lansdale is one of the most consummate storytellers of the past several decades. Each book a chunk of rich plot and characters with its own idiosyncrasies, I’m approaching the point where I’ll buy a Lansdale book sight unseen. Presenting an ultra-believable vision of 1950s’ life in East Texas, A Fine Dark Line (2002) is a fine dark thriller that keeps the pages churning throughout its colorful story.

Stanley Mitchell is your typical thirteen-year-old boy growing up in a small Texas town, Dumont. Comic books, learning about girls, and riding his bicycle, he helps around his family’s drive-in cinema when he’s not being a boy. But things change one day when he and his older sister discover a tin box full of letters in the woods behind their house. Recounting a love affair between two people identifying themselves by their initials, Stanley learns that one of them would go on to be murdered—at least that is the rumor floating around Dumont. Over the course of the summer, Stanley gets to the bottom of the mystery, but not before embroiling himself in some of the most frightening, scariest backwoods scenes small town Texas has to offer.

The Fine Dark Line is more damn fine story telling from Lansdale. Stanley’s story unravels itself with an ease that makes the pages practically turn themselves. Dumont, its inhabitants, and the history Stanley becomes involved with are given proper treatment, i.e. sketched in a paucity of words that more effectively describe the scenes and places than writers who use paragraphs of exposition. And dialogue: it’s Lansdale’s forte. Rich with idiosyncrasy and color, the variety of Texas vernacular spills off the page, giving the reader a cast full character and presence.

The Fine Dark Line, while at heart a murder mystery, dips more than one toe into discussion on racism. 1950s Texas not yet coming to terms with civil movements of the era, it’s entirely fair to say race plays a strong role in the setting and certain conflicts between characters. It’s also entirely fair to say Lansdale’s primary interest is humanitarian. There is no left vs right, or any of the political games we see in media today. The story is more visceral than that. Lansdale does not shy away from the treatment of certain characters, but at the same time he does not play blacks vs whites. Each character has their own identity, and while they may act or think in some ways due to their color, it does not equate to their position on the spectrum of good and evil. Every person is capable, hence the humanitarianism—and a nod in favor of the book.

In the end, The Fine Dark Line is more high-quality yarn spinning from Lansdale. Capturing the era and the characters in full technicolor, readers are treated to a good old fashioned murder mystery in small town America, done properly. One of the story’s undercurrents is certainly race; Lansdale handles it with care, intelligence, and both feet in reality. Point blank: if you haven’t read Lansdale, this is a good spot to jump in, and if you have, rest assured this is more good stuff.