Wild, indeed. Willeford's writing is rich and vivid, the tone rough and tumble. The narrator spits venom. Stumbles as it rushes to its ending, but a potent and menacing read, nonetheless.

I think this is Willeford's first proper crime novel. Jacob Blake is a private dick with a dumpy office in a dumpy hotel which is also where he keeps a room. Two female clients in one day set him in the rails of fate. Solid stuff.

Willeford takes what seemingly starts out to be a typical hard-boiled private eye story and turns it on it's head with with this fast paced and insanely plotted noir.

Don't let the title put you off. There is only one. Wife that is. And her decline into goofiness is a weak point. But the writing is crisp and full of humour. This is pulpy and fun.

Second Time Through

This is real good and full of surprises.

There's only one wife, but she's wild enough to be plural.

Definitely has that old pulp style, and I dig it - some patches are predictable, but the final twist is so perfectly noir that I can forgive all the rest. A lot of fun and a fast read for summer.

Ho-lee Mo-lee. Vintage noir at its finest/ grittiest. Wild, tough, and in the best ways, pretty brutal. Its novella length is also perfect. The story was such a ride, lengthening it would have made it worse. Thanks to the lady at the bookshop who recommended Charles Willeford when she saw me buying James Crumley.

This was a slim but satisfying noir novelette that delivers exactly what you want from a slim but satisfying noir novelette.

(MOST CONCISE. REVIEW. EVER.)

Well, this certainly is a fast and fun read!

Liked the twists that happened all the way to the end. My only complaint was the title.

Campy, lurid pulp crime novel from the 50s with plenty of sex and violence. A quick read with a few good scenes (and a few objectionable ones). For Willeford's best work, see Miami Blues.

The purpose of Wild Wives seems to be a lesson in what would happen if a private eye like Sam Spade had to actually face the music for his smart ass behavior. He seems to pay for everything in this tale. Punching a thug, smarting off to a lieutenant, and playing a practical joke on a teenage girl all come back to bite him. It's a short book and maybe the first time I literally read a whole story in one sitting. It wasn't difficult. Willeford's prose moves smoothly and never lacks for action. It's maybe not as bleak as Jim Thompson, but it belongs squarely in that hard boiled category.

Willeford did 4 pulps for Beacon in the mid 1950's, and the publisher was more interested in the sex than in the mystery.
And this hits the spot! Starting with a "nearly 16 year old" hiking up her skirt and offering to be spanked, to the gay guy. But Jake says he is OK, even if he tries to hit on every male within a foot of him - he runs an art gallery after all (BTW, not many pulps y0u read from the '50's are gonna refer to Klee and Moore, like Willeford does here!). OTOH, his chubby but handsome young boyfriend deserves the beating he gets for being a leach.
And then there is Florence. Beautiful, sexy, rich from her marriage, willing to drop her panties at a wink - and crazier (and wiley) as a loon.
These are some heartless people, who'd sell their great grandmother for a dime.
A short pulp, it all gets wrapped up rather quickly.
Set mostly in SF - he gives precise driving directions for "local atmosphere".
Not a great mystery - but loads of fun!
I have some of his other short pulp works as ebooks, but I'd also like to reread his 2 volumes of memoirs. Which I remember as being pretty good, but are now hard to find, and not inexpensive.