Mike Lupica is one of the most prominent sports writers in America and a
syndicated columnist for the New York Daily
News; he's also a best-selling
author of both mysteries and YA sports novels--he's been called "A guy who
gets boys to read." His new YA novel, Hero, about a teenage superhero, comes out in November from Philomel. Lupica
is also what he describes as a "serial Little League coach," a youth
basketball coach, and a soccer coach for his four children, three sons and a
daughter. He and his family live in Connecticut. Today he appears in another
role: as Elmore Leonard's self-proclaimed biggest fan.
How did you become both a fan and a friend? Did you read him first, or meet him first?
I had written some adult mystery novels with the recurring character of a New York City television reporter. My book editor, Peter Gethers, said that Esquire wanted me to do a piece on Elmore Leonard. This was in 1987. I was already a huge fan (I believe I now have every single one of his books) so of course agreed. I flew to Detroit, took him to a Tigers game, hung out with him for a few days. That was the beginning of a friendship that has grown and lasted. His place in North Palm Beach and the place we used to have in Jupiter were about five minutes away from each other. When your writing hero becomes a good friend, it's just the best. We talk at least three times a week now, sometimes more than that. The real fun is talking to him when he's in mid-book and having him read the scene he's writing at that moment.
The only thing better than reading Elmore Leonard is re-reading him. You see him described as our greatest living crime writer; I say, take out "crime." And he's at the top of his game.
What's so appealing about his writing?
I remember when I read Road Dogs. I got to the end and was disappointed that I didn't get to hang around these people any more.
The reason he's lasted is because he tells great stories. The dialogue is fabulous, of course. The best dialogue being written, with characters that you can tell interest him. I can always tell in his books when he loses interest in some characters and gains interest in others. For example, in Tishomingo Blues, you can see the book starts off with high diver Dennis Lenahan, but you then see Detroit gangster Robert Taylor walk in and just take the book over. I've always said, don't even think you know where Dutch is going to take you. Because you don't.
His dialogue is so wonderful. It must be great on audio.
Listen to Mr. Paradise, read by Robert Forster. It's like listening to jazz--Coltrane, Miles, Ben Webster.
Dutch likes Hemingway, he's always said, because he believes in white space. He'll put books down that have too many words. But you have to pay attention to his writing--lack of words doesn't mean lack of complexity or nuance. You read some of his scenes, it really is like he's laying down music.
He once wondered what a page would look like if every line of dialogue was only one line. That's why his pages move. You get carried along for the ride.
What do you like about Djibouti?
One of the clichés you hear about great contemporary novels is that they read like they were ripped from the day's headlines. But he's done that here with piracy. And if you wonder how the pirates do what they do, he tells you exactly how, and with great characters and colorful language. No one's ever written better dialogue. Not ever. This is the way he becomes your guide into something you can't get your mind around. He opens a door and lets you into an amazing world.
After all these books--Djibouti makes 44--we're going to celebrate his 85th birthday this year, and to realize that he's still at the top of his game, and he's still having as much fun as always, well, if that's not an inspiration, I don't know what is. Some day somebody will figure out that his writing is worth the Nobel.
It's great reading him; it's better knowing him.