THE FURY OF BLACKY JAGUAR BY ANGEL LUIS COLON
THE FURY OF THE BLACKY JAGUAR
Angel Luis Colon
July 14, 2015
One Eye Press Singles
Sometimes, a character hits the page fully formed, right from the start. That’s Angel Luis Colon’s Blacky Jaguar. Blacky hits the page like the Tasmanian Devil with a pompadour and black leather jacket.
But who is Blacky Jaguar? Blacky is an ex-IRA hard man living the quiet(er) life until someone runs off with his prized 1959 Plymouth Fury. Then, all bets are off as Blacky leaves a path of destruction across the Bronx in his quest to find his prized automobile, named Polly, of course. How Colon manages to pack such amazing characterization and pure heart amid mass destruction and violence within the confines of 98 pages is a mystery to me. What isn’t a mystery, is me waiting for more Blacky Jaguar.
This is (mostly) the review for THE FURY OF BLACKY JAGUAR that I had originally posted on Amazon. Every review posted on Amazon counts, you know. But here’s the thing: thanks to Amazon Prime, I got this novella July 15th, read it July 16th, and I’m still talking about it today.
Angel Luis Colon has created a character that I want to hang out with. Not all the time, because really, who wants to clean up all of that blood and broken glass every day? But Blacky Jaguar is pure manic id, and that’s just so damn much fun. Remember the last time you read a story, and just smiled all the while you were turning pages? That’s what it’s like to read this story.
Here. I’ll elucidate. Blacky is talking to his contacts in an Italian deli, trying to dig up clues to the whereabouts of Polly, his prized car:
Tony typed in silence.
“Anything yet?” Blacky stood up. Watched a little bit of soccer on TV. “How the fuck did you two manage to get real footie on the teevee?” He slipped his leather jacket off. Tossed it on his chair. Dropped to the ground and started doing push-ups.
This passage is permanently stuck in my brain. In a lean, fast moving story full of violence and character beats, this is the beat that has taken root in my head. Blacky lives in my brain now, pacing the floor and dropping to the ground to do push-ups. And here’s the thing: Colon has peppered this story with a million such beats. This is just the one that took root in my head.
So pick up your own copy of THE FURY OF BLACKY JAGUAR, and then tell me the moment that Blacky Jaguar moved into your brain. The pushy bastard.