Of Mice and Minestrone, by Joe R. Lansdale / *****

One of the things I’ve always loved about Joe R. Lansdale’s Hap and Leonard books is the way he’s avoided ever giving much of an “origin” story for the men’s friendship. Hap Collins is a white martial arts expert who went to jail during the Vietnam war for being a conscientious objector; Leonard Pine is a gay black man who fought in that same war. And they’re friends, and have been their whole lives. Simple enough, and like most friendships, it simply is – there’s no big dramatic story behind it. They’re just devoted friends.

So you could forgive me for being a little antsy about seeing that the short story collection Of Mice and Minestrone was subtitled “Hap and Leonard: The Early Years.” Did we really need a series about the two of them as teenagers solving crimes? But I shouldn’t have worried, because Lansdale gives us a volume that’s on par with any other entry in the series, with at least one story that ranks among the best the series has ever been.

In general, Of Mice and Minestrone gives us five short tales set in the younger years of our heroes. We start things off with “The Kitchen,” a short vignette from Hap’s childhood about dinner with at his grandmother’s house, giving us a sense of the family life that led to the man we’ve come to know. But the collection really kicks off with the title tale, a two-part story in which Hap takes a job at the police station, only to get an ugly look behind the scenes at how justice works in Texas – and how it works differently depending on your race and who you happen to know. It’s a Leonard-free tale again, but as Lansdale says in his introduction, it’s a story that gives you a window into why Hap is the way he is, and how he sees the world – both in terms of justice and in terms of race.

Leonard enters into things in “The Watering Shed,” showing the aggression and lack of fear that defines him so well as he drags Hap along with him into a backwater bar that doesn’t see a lot of black visitors. That same attitude shows up in the collection’s longest tale, “Sparring Partner,” in which the two teenage friends get involved in a boxing club with some scummy managers, some stoked racial fears, and a lot of dangerous fighters. Both of these are pure Hap and Leonard gems, with Leonard’s swagger backed up by Hap, even through his anxiety, and the two men trading verbal quips with each other as much as they are the unwilling straight men around them. As ever, Lansdale plots beautifully, letting the story unfold in a way that pulls you along while making clear that the draw here is the characterization and the writing, and the plot is just a way to deliver all of that.

But if there’s a story that really reminds me why I love Hap and Leonard, it’s the closing tale, “The Sabine is High.” The plot here is nonexistent; put simply, it takes place right after Leonard has returned home from Vietnam, and not long after Hap has been released from jail for his refusal to serve. The two men reunite and go fishing, and while they’re there, they talk about their experiences. That’s all there is to the story…and yet, what you get there is something beautiful and effective, as these two men open up to their best friend in the world about their horrors and trauma in these places, whether it’s Leonard’s guilt about his actions in the war or Hap’s PTSD about walking through the prison yard. There’s never a moment where Hap or Leonard spells it all out, or talks in therapy terms, or gets too broad; no, it’s just these two old friends telling stories, talking in a way that’s as close as they will ever get to opening their hearts. That Lansdale ends it on such a perfectly hilarious line that captures the nature of this friendship (and, indeed, a lot of male friendships) only makes it better. Really, “The Sabine is High” may be my favorite Hap and Leonard story in many ways; what it lacks in thrills and violence, it more than makes up for as a look into these men and their bond.

Now, after the stories end, you’ll see more of the book to come – a collection of recipes of the food mentioned in the stories. You might think, oh, interesting, but inessential. But there you’re wrong, because the recipes are written in the voice of our characters, peppering the recipes with commentary, insights, jokes, and even epilogues to some of the stories. I can’t think of another set of recipes that made me laugh this much, or that brought me this much joy, and I’m so glad I didn’t skip them.

Should you start with Of Mice and Minestrone if you’re new to Hap and Leonard? I’d say probably not; these stories are good, and you’d enjoy them, but they’re richer for knowing these two men and their lives. But they’re every bit as good as basically every other Hap and Leonard writing Lansdale has ever done – and that’s no small thing at all, given how consistently great this series is.

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