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Farley Ramsdale, a nasty little crystal meth tweaker with a big attitude, hooks up with an emaciated woman he christens Olive Oyl because of her stick-like figure. He likes having Olive around --- mostly because he can send her into dangerous situations in his stead. If she comes back, he's safe; if she doesn't, he's still safe. Plus, she cooks for him, works with him and sleeps with him. Despite her years of drug use, Olive still has a pretty good heart, even if she has few teeth and her hair doesn't look so good. Farley and Olive actually work hard at crime. They make their score however they can, but a favorite is mailbox fishing, hauling out all sorts of useful letters, checks and occasionally cash. One night, they hit a goldmine.
But the late-night streets teem with junkies, tweakers, peddlers, burglars, robbers, smugglers and killers. None of them has any real allegiance to anyone, so the rule is to beware of everyone. Even what looks like a benign panhandler may have big eyes, looking for information he can sell. And he won't care if it's the cops to whom he sells.
The cops in Hollywood Station have seen it all, and they have attitudes too --- maybe, in fact, bigger than those of the crooks. All of them have the bold, hardened character of a cop on the street. People who see the side of life that they see find ways to cope: by telling seemingly tasteless jokes, subconsciously profiling everyone, inventing unflattering categories for the bad guys and even some pretty offensive nicknames for their own colleagues. But don't dare doubt that they are a family. They need each other desperately; their very lives depend on it.
Joseph Wambaugh's cops on the night shift are rich with odd personalities and bizarre quirks. Flotsam and Jetsam, a couple of cops regrettably partnered together, are devoted surfer dudes who have a divorce or two under their belt, a few years on the job and a gaping hole where their brains should have been. You just have to hope they don't last long on the job. If they do, you can bet they will be frequent subjects of departmental investigations and indignant lawsuits.
For this deployment period, the fondly nicknamed Oracle --- a cop with decades on the job to his credit --- partners a crusty cop named Fausto Gamboa with Budgie Polk, a gutsy officer recently returned from maternity leave. An unlikely pair: He's older than her father; she's young, brash and female, of all things. Back in Gamboa's day, females weren't gun-carrying officers who were allowed out in the field. They worked safely behind a desk, were good with paperwork and had nice voices for answering phones. And what's with that name, Budgie? Gamboa thinks it must be time to pull the pin, especially the way the rules have been relaxed nowadays. Flotsam and Jetsam have gel-spiked dyed hair, if you can believe it.
HOLLYWOOD STATION reads like a watch commander's log. Lots of bodies doing all sorts of illegal stuff. Fists fly. Shots are fired. Arrests are made. Stories are compared. And Wambaugh doesn't leave anybody out. The Russian mafia makes an appearance, as does a shell-shocked war veteran, some Asian bangers, a couple of shifty Italian guys, and lots of people with ties to the wonderful world of drugs. Of course, this is Hollywood Station, so there are the aspiring actors among the rank and file, busily dropping names and searching for their big break.
As if the characters aren't enough to make HOLLYWOOD STATION a hit, there is also one of the most unique chase scenes ever written --- not so much because of the high speed (since there isn't any) but because of the participants. I'm pretty sure a chase like this one has never happened --- anywhere, any time.
Wambaugh's first novel in a decade is comical and gritty, with political commentary woven in. It's such a pleasure to have him back.
--- Reviewed by Kate Ayers
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