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Monday, 22 June 2026

The Goodbye Coast - Joe Ide


 The Goodbye Coast sells itself as 'A Philip Marlowe novel', which it isn't.   We shall come to that.   But it was the reason I picked it up because as previously stated on this blog, I not only love the original but I also loved several of the 'continuation' novels, particularly those by Denise Mina and Lawrence Osborne.

ide goes further, giving us a Marlowe transplanted to 21sr Century LA, still around forty years old with a strong personal code of ethics.   This isn't sci fi.   It's just a private investigator born circa 1980 who happens to be called, for no apparent reason, Philip Marlowe.   There is no irony involved; no one says 'I liked you better in The High Window.   In fact this Marlowe is a lot closer to Jim Rockford of the epoymous Files, with a pesky but loveable father played, in an ideal world, by Noah Beery Junior.   I for one had James Garner in my mind's eye throughout.

I have no idea why Ide went for this idea.   What we have in The Goodbye Coast is an excellent contemporary crime novel about movie second raters and Russian/Armenian gangsters.   At the centre is a 17-year-old wild child, Cody, daughter of Malibu movie people, whose father has just been shot in the face.   Marlowe is hired to get the runaway back (the reason why, when revealed, is a very nice touch).   He finds her and in so doing saves her from an assassination attempt.   So he takes her into his form of protective custody, lodging her with his father Emmet, an LAPD detective on indeteminate leave until he gets his drink problem under control.

There's also an excellent subplot, which like all great B stories inverts the A.   A mature but hot English lady comes to LA to find her young son who has been abducted by her feckless rich-kid-movie-wannabe ex.   The two investigations overlap and all Hell breaks loose - action which Ide handles expertly and very effectively.   

The pace is relentless, the characters on all sides well-drawn and convincing.   The dialogue and commentary is a toned-down echo of Carl Hiaasen rather than a hepped-up Raymond Chandler.   The only mis-step in 300 pages is naming the hero.

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