Good Behavior I had one of those commuter days where I had to change trains a lot in order to get to Chicago’s McCormick Place in order to meet a friend. Knowing I was going to spend a large part of my day on trains, I took Good Behavior with me. I finished it on my way home that night. That means it read relatively quickly. It’s a fast-moving story with, to me, familiar characters and familiar elements.That isn’t to say that this book which is almost Dortmunder meets Mission: Impossible meets The Flying Nun is as predictable as most books featuring John Dortmunder, master criminal who can’t quite master Murphy’s Law. By the way, there is no Sister Bertrille in this book, but there is a young nun who is quite resolute and serves as the macguffin for this story. It seems this young nun has been kidnapped by her family and her wealthy father is attempting to deprogram her faith. Now, that’s bizarre enough, but what about the fact that her order has taken a vow of silence such that they may only speak aloud for two hours on Thursday afternoons? How on earth will Dortmunder communicate with them and, at one point in the plot, how do silent nuns pretend to be a vocal choir? As usual, much of the book is spent with John Dortmunder figuring out how to work a plan, recruit the right people, and implement the plan. This time, the challenge seems even harder than in most of the capers I’ve read and, at first, the recruitment seems impossible. The cast of this “job” is full of familiar faces, but there is a hilarious ex-con that threatens to gum up the works from the very start. I found myself holding my breath every time this fellow talked to anyone (especially women) much less engaged in his specialty (he was the alarm guy). Some writers use a “deus ex machine” to salvage a plot and get their protagonists out of trouble. Westlake uses a genius at muck-it-up to get his protagonists into trouble. Coincidences rarely benefit our “heroes” and Good Behavior is one of those books where the “coincidence” is heavily armed and dangerous. Imagine walking into a meeting of Pyromaniacs Anonymous where the attendees are not quite cured and you get what I mean. That isn’t exactly what Dortmunder wanders into, but you get the general picture.There is an old saying that no good deed goes unpunished. In this case, Dortmunder doesn’t get away with all the loot he’s expecting (and that’s no surprise because Dortmunder always loses the loot or a big hunk of it in every novel—Westlake apparently doesn’t want crime to pay too well), but it’s probably the first time he’s inadvertently given to charity. Does he get away with anything? That’s for readers to find out. As always, you find yourself wondering if things aren’t going too well in the novels of this series and find yourself too disappointed if they are. Good Behavior reads so fast and is so entertaining it’s like (I’m sorry, you can see it coming, can’t you?) getting time off for Good Behavior. Don’t worry. The novel is much better than my lousy pun. Then again, what isn’t?
Starts off a bit slow, but once Dortmunder has agreed to the caper and assembles the usual team, then things take off. The finale is a hoot with some clever twists and unexpected obstacles, all of which, Dortmunder and team overcome with not so much with skill, but their pursuers ineptitude. A funny new team member is a lock pick extraordinaire named Wilbur, who has spent more time in the slammer than being on the outside, and talks as if he were still in the 1940s. Making up for lost time, he's the consummate flirt, and takes every opportunity to hit on whatever female is around.
What do You think about Good Behavior (1989)?
Dortmunder falls into a convent full of silent nuns who, despite just about everything about him, see him as a Godsend, just the man they need to rescue their sister, kidnapped by her obscenely wealthy father and held for deprogramming on the top floor of a Manhattan skyscraper. This is not the sort of thing John does. It's not even the sort of thing John approves of, but he hatches a scheme and puts together a string and before you know it there's burgling and rescuing going on and everything might even work out for the best. Except the obscenely rich father is planning a coup in a South American country and figures the floor below the top floor is as good a place as any to keep his mercenary army for the weekend before flying them out. And that's what Dortmunder's got to get through to get to the nun and then back down again through to get her out and soon the nun's rescuing John and everyone's rescuing each other and there's mercenaries and security guards and cops everywhere and a ton of loot and one nun and Dortmunder and pals all wondering who's going to recuse them.All-time classic comedy crime caper. You cannot do better for lifting rainy-day blues.
—Nigel
This might be one of the best Dortmunder books that Westlake has given us. There are the usual fun antics as well as dire straits for our depressed sort-of-hero John Dortmunder. However, the straits are not as dire as they get in other books, which I was glad to see. I get a little tired of the exaggerated bad luck that Dortmunder and his crew run into. What I enjoy is the seemingly pedestrian bad luck that pesters them. I think this is one of the better stories for the character Andy Kelp. He is quite likable here, and he just seemed better fleshed out in this one than in some of the others. The plot, involving a kidnapped nun, is lots of fun, and the introduction of a mercenary army not only works well, but it provides for some very interesting, wild adventures. If you've never read one of Donald Westlake's "John Dortmunder" books, this is not a bad one to start with. This book gets four stars for good behavior.
—Jason Reeser
This nifty Dortmunder title starts with a bang. The hapless burglar finds himself up high on a rafter in the ceiling of a cloister where scads of nuns are silently contemplating the Divine. His rescue and consequent need to explain himself to women who've taken a vow of silence had me doubled over. And there are the wonderful and obligatory tropes--scenes in the OJ bar, where the regulars demonstrate their epic ignorance, descriptions of Tiny, in all his massiveness, and plot complications multiplying like rabbits. Wheh. And I finally got to see where J.T. comes in to the series, and how Tiny, mysteriously, becomes her paramour.
—Geoff
