Customer Reviews

Lawrence Sanders' Mcnally's Trial (Archy McNally)

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When you think of a fictional detective, you normally picture a hard-boiled man or woman, who carries a gun, lurks under windows with a pair of binoculars, and has three or four fistfights each week. In McNally's Trial, Lawrence Sanders gives us a different picture.

The hero of this series is Archibald McNally, the son of a successful Palm Beach attorney. Archy (as his friends call him) is less than successful himself. He made it through law school, all right, but he was kicked out for streaking naked across the stage during a performance of the New York Philharmonic. His father gave him a office known as "Archy's Locker" due to its rather small size and now uses him as an unofficial investigator whenever the firm has need of such services.

He carries no gun, for he abhors violence. He doesn't spend time outside windows, for he would rather be eating a good meal. But he does have one of the characteristics of detective fiction: He is constantly in the arms of a beautiful woman. Unfortunately, his own true love, Constance Garcia, has an excellent spy network herself, and he always regrets these rather
painful affairs!

His involvement in this case begins when beautiful Sunny Fogarty, the financial manager of the Whitcomb Funeral Home, comes by to ask Archy's father to find out why her employer is suddenly making so much money, in particular why they are shipping so many caskets to New York, Boston, and Chicago.

To complicate matters, Archy's favorite air headed bum, Binky Watrous wants to help. He knows nothing about detecting, other than it sounds like fun, and he's totally incompetent; but Archy doesn't want to hurt his feelings.

As the two investigate, they run into a number of nasty characters, men who just don't fit the upperclass social image of the Whitcombs. How are they involved? Then they discover that Whitcomb's son and daughter-in-law seem to be involved with the gangster types. Luckily Mitzi seems to be infatuated with Binky (though Archy can think of no reason why any woman would find him attractive) and may be a source of information-or is it disinformation?

After a few murders Archy has the solution. But will he live long enough to reveal what he has found to his father? And will another innocent person have to die as well?

This isn't great literature, but it's a great beach book.

I have read three of the "McNally Series" and enjoyed them tremendously. Take them for what they are - a good fun read. Don't expect to be enlightened (although your vocabulary might improve) shocked or deeply engrossed in a serious puzzel. Unashamedly, the plots are as thin as a Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mystery but with a healthy dose of Bertie Wooster style. That is half their fun.

So do yourself a favour this summer. Find yourself a beautiful sun drenched beach (with lots of pretty girls in bikinies - Archy would approve) bring a few imported beers (or if your in the right mood - a fine bottle of chilled crisp white wine or maybe a thermos of exotic cocktails) sit back and enjoy. Oh also bring some food - after reading about the wonderful meals you will be hungry.

I look forward to finding my next "McNally" in my far from home bookstore.

my first encounter w/ a McNally book. Few thillers or mysteries make me laugh out loud.

In this 5th offering in the original 7 McNally novels, Lawrence Sanders did not entre nous with a deuce of sexual objects entwined in ecstasy (one of whom, or of which, would be Archy); nor did he entre nous with Peaches' cat vomit on Archy's lavender suede shoe; nor did he open Archy's saga with an angry slap on his cheek (face, not rear) from a future sexual success. For his reader partner, Sanders opened this tale, with Archy as narrator, thus(ly):

>> It has been said that no good deed goes unpunished, and I can vouch for it. The donee of my act of charity was Binky Watrous, a close pal of mine and a complete doofus who once, deranged by strong drink, brushed his teeth with anchovy paste. <<

Binky's parents were lost at sea when he was a tot and he was raised by:

>> ... a wealthy maiden aunt, one of the grandest of grande dames of Palm Beach... imposing, haughty, and rather frightening. Her customary greeting was not, "How are you?" but "You're not looking well." <<

Archy's voice could crack through the noire-est night of private-eye-lore with jokes trailing dictionaries. He continued his opening (having stolen the pen from Sanders):

>> I can't remember the date of the battle of Actium, but I have almost total recall when it comes to splendid meals I have enjoyed .... The main ingredients were chunks of smoked chubs enlivened with slices of fennel sausage, and ... <<

As usual, I enjoyed Archy's asides to the reader:

>> Also my journal is a source book for the narratives I pen and ensures accuracy. You didn't think I was making up all this stuff, did you?<<

This appears to be a perfect perspective for a novelist, on death and funerals:

>> I hope you will not ... consider our investigations somewhat macabre. Of course I do not know your attitude toward death and dying. I do know that for many years mine was abject terror. But then one day at the funeral of a good friend I recalled Aristotle's classic dictum: "A whole is that which has beginning, middle, and end." It is true for a whole life, is it not? That realization has been a great comfort to me, and I hope it will be to you as well. <<

Regarding TRIAL's focus on a client of a family-owned-funeral home, a few interesting tidbits on that industry were interspersed delicately throughout the plot, with this about practices of shipping bodies:

>> I reckon that almost every airliner departing from south Florida carried at least one corpse in the cargo bay. <<

In a typical entry in the plot about Archy's daily bread (regular repasts), note the parenthesis in the below quoted passage:

>> ... lunch at a greasery that served french fries limp enough to be bent double .... After a ravishing dinner of baked scallops (with braised endives) and a dessert of bread pudding with sabayon sauce, I went upstairs and worked for an hour bringing entries in my journal up to date. <<

In TRIAL I noticed that in Archy's mentions of a meal, the details began to be placed wholly between a decreasing space of parenthetical marks. It felt as if he were compelled to insert those sensual appeals, yet had been editorially reprimanded about too much, too frequent interjection of meals and changes of attire. It is reported that Sanders received reader criticism about this repetition of rapture of Archy's sensual, pleasure-greedy nature.

I say to that impatient criticism, "How rude!" I might add, "Get a tongue ... or a cheek ... or a piece of rare beef!"

That regular appeal to an artistic sensuality (culinary, clothing-ary, or whatever) is the meat of this series. Given the fickle nature of criticism, if Archy had succumbed to the complaint and totally misplaced the mangia munches, the editorial approach would have reversed to demands to expand the parenthetical's into long paragraph-ical's, and to remove the enclosure marks. The vernacular of that reader request would probably have been a snarl by an elderly matron, "WHERE'S the BEEF!"

Archy seamed these sentiments successfully here:

>> If a whole life really does consist of beginning, middle, and end, I wanted my middle to be as pleasurable as possible. We are all hedonists, but I'm one of the few who will admit it. <<

Yes. Bravo! And, look what Archy accomplishes in each novel in this series! That's a very busy hedonist. In fact, what Archy dramatizes succinctly is how hedonism (which is most often overdone to the point of vomit inducement) done right can enhance both life and productivity.

Okay. Now I'm getting to the point of my analysis of how Archy became such an intimate friend with his readers, that he did not slip into the grave to sleep eternal when his author did so. Allow me to quote the P.S. from my recent review of McNally's RISK, posted 7/28/06:

>> I have one more key to share about what I see as the treasures sought and received in the McNally series. I hope to be able to do justice to that in my review of TRIAL. It involves the sanctity and sacred value of cherished daily routines. It's one of the prime answers I come to whenever I ask myself the "What's it all about" questions. The answer is so beautifully simple it's nearly invisibly woven into the texture of living tapestry. The answer clears the fog as Life's final chapter begins its walk and the walker is too tired to tangle with adventure. Lawrence Sanders did this with his McNally family. It's his legacy. <<

Now I'm ready to expand on that concept about the sanctity of daily routines being one of the ultimate gifts people seem to treasure when they're close to passing ("close" can actually mean a few years prior to the exit)...

When I was younger, and still thinking "life" was meant (mostly) for (and it is, but there's more) movement, creativity, productivity, exploration, experimentation, growth, learning, new experiences, etc., I would sometimes look at older, sedentary people whom I loved, and wonder what they got out of life, since all they seemed to do was ...

I started wondering ...

Exactly what did they do each day that might make them want to still be in this life?

Each pushing the 90's decade in life, they had already given a great amount of good to a quality number of family, friends, and causes; they didn't have residual needs to push projects, climb mountains, write novels (like I'll be doing until I'm 195), or to continue "save the world" pursuits from their dues-paid, natural, ready-to-rest, conditions and conclusions.

All I could see that they did was that they got up in the morning, brewed and sipped coffee, read the paper, scuttled through a few household chores, ate lunch, maybe took a nap or blobbed out in front of the TV, cooked and slurped supper, cleaned up the mess, watched some more TV, then slipped into bed, usually a single. The next day would be the same. It was ... just ... daily ... or regular ... routines.

Each week, as I noted in a story I wrote about my Aunt Annie, she and her sister Mary, and brother-in-law, Hoagie, had set up a cherished routine for Saturday afternoons to "hit" 3 markets on a route for stocking cupboard and refrigerator; then they'd go out to dinner. They took turns picking the restaurant.

(Note about shopping routines: Amazon now sells groceries, TOO! Gotta go check out their coffee collection! Wonder when Amazon will be delivering a gourmet restaurant to my door?)

Suddenly, I realized that those daily and weekly routines WERE a baseline of life, in a sense for all of us, young or old, healthy or ill. Even the most adventurous, active, productive, creative persons probably cherish most (maybe secretly) their daily routines (and meals!), especially the morning and evening ones. Maybe they cherish those repeated events even more than the grandest vacations or adventures.

It was through my observation of Annie, Mary, and Hoagie's retired lives which I suddenly saw the sanctity of and satisfaction in (a simple yet almost sacred satisfaction) daily repetitions of cherished acts or events.

And there's more to that "story." There's the art about what daily routines have to do with development of intimacy, a quality which Archy seemed to be seeking not only with most women he met, but through food, drink, and all his "guilty pleasures." I believe that true intimacy, in romance or friendship, is not accomplished by seamless sexuality; it is accomplished by the simple sharing (either through a reality walk or talking the talk, as in "communication") of those daily repeated, daily-routines.

"What did you have for lunch, old friend? What time did you go to bed?"

When we ask those types of (personal) questions of a friend or lover-at-a-distance, are we are doing bonding of the first water? I say absolutely, yes.

Should we wonder why Archy became such an intimate friend to his readers that most of them slipped easily beyond Sanders' demise into Lardos' eyes?

All right. Now we're ready to address the concluding chapters in TRIAL, which do not quite repeat the other 7 offerings in extent of intensity of culprit capture by action, adventure, surged danger, and fast-paced, fancy-footwork.

The final pages of this novel were rather quiet, sensual, and simply, poetically, elegant. What I note here about that will not spoil the ending. I will not give away salient details. I will, I hope, set the bait for you to be compelled to read McNally's TRIAL.

Yes, Sanders provided the usual intrigue and mystery machinations in which a new and interesting FBI agent (a fascinating character study of obsession) took over the show and engineered a coup-in-chaos, all done at a distance.

And, THEN, after the broken bodies and pasty pieces were tagged, bagged, and swept away...

Archy and Connie dressed to-the-nines. He even wore black patent leathers cushioned with class by knee-high socks, and she was a "vanilla popsicle" in long-white-silk. In those unlikely get-ups the couple made a grand entrance at the Pelican Club (you'll want to join them to see how they were received). A drool-dripping culinary delight ensued, of "pot roast with a fresh horseradish sauce so good it made one weep..." Following that dishy dining experience, the romantic duo sipped hissing champagne as they strolled bare-toed on the moonlit sand behind the McNally manse.

The way Sanders painted that scene would make an artistic film-maker itch, to a point-of-hives, into a compulsion-to-capture, if he could, the simple, elegant ambiance of that closing scene. I'd love to see that movie. Humphry Bogart's, "Here's to you, baby," would have to take (be shipped out on) a back seat in his plane ride to (from?) Casablanca.

So ...

Was Binky Archy's TRIAL? Or did the gauntlet-run have to do with details of death, funerals, and shipping caskets marked "Human Remains" ...

You be the (reader) judge.

Even your Final Chapter might elicit a smile, after you've drooled through your Daily Breads for days-upon-days, and are ready to fly.

Go, Caterpillars! Your dreams are of wings.

Linda Shelnutt

Author of several books on Kindle, including:

Molasses Moon

Myrtle's Ultimate Mystery

Full Moon Rising (The Books of Gem)

New Moon Blues (The Books of Gem)

People who enjoyed the stories about Jeeves and Wooster will undoubtedly like the series of books about Archibald "Archy" McNally, the son a a successful attorney. Archy's specialty is carrying out investigations for his father when he is not carrying on with women and hanging out at the Pelican Club. Lawrence Sanders was undoubtedly influenced by P. G. Wodehouse in creating this series, as Archy is a modern day counterpart of Bertie Wooster. The plot of this particular book is somewhat transparent - that ploy of sealed caskets being shipped from one place to another has been used before. However, the story and the characters are entertaining light reading as Archy introduces his erstwhile friend Binky Watrous into the world of private investigations.

All of Mr Lawrence's books on McNally have been hard for me to put down. I wish he'd do a book signing in my area.

The pleasure of reading the Archy McNally mysteries is NOT in solving each mystery, but in enjoying the witty and sophisticated humor along the way. Archy often speaks directly to the reader, making you a "partner" in the case. His puns and double entendres are unexpected and witty, and enliven what could otherwise be a dry, predictable mystery. I eagerly await each new McNally mystery!

Perhaps it's because I haven't been in a good mood lately, but this book wasn't up to the McNally series standard. New sidekick Binky Wautrous is annoying and incompetant. Please get rid of him Mr Sanders. The story never engaged me completely either. Who cares about some smuggling shenanigans involving funeral homes?

This was the only McNalley book I hadn't read. I was luckey to find a used copy on Amazon. Thanks!

A few months ago I picked up McNally's Trial and read it. I enjoyed it so much, I have now read all the McNally books and look forward to more. Archy and his pals make me laugh out loud as I'm reading. Sanders writes in such as manner that I feel I could recognize Archy anywhere. Solving the crime is only part of the fun when reading these books.