![]() ![]() From 1966 to 1973, McDonald worked for the Boston Globe under one simple rule from his editor: “Go have fun and write about it.” While that gave him the freedom of Fletch, his spirit came from a post-script suggestion: “If you end up cut and bleeding on the sidewalk, call the city desk.” His last year at the Globe, McDonald handed his detective story to a friend and ran away on a family vacation. When Gregory McDonald wrote Fletch, he was Fletch. Fletch has no fuzzy feelings about any institution – financial, marital, or otherwise reputable – least of all the ones that offer him an honest day’s work. Not that he regularly pays taxes – Fletch’s Fortune sees him blackmailed by the CIA because retired journalists shouldn’t have offshore accounts. ![]() In the hands of McDonald, he’s Schrodinger’s bum, changing zip codes and tax brackets from one book to the next. ![]() So retroactively begins the career of the fictional journalist known to lovers and divorce attorneys alike as Fletch. Early on in Fletch Won, the eighth published novel in the series by Gregory McDonald and the first chronologically, Irwin Maurice Fletcher is reassigned to the society pages of the Los Angeles News-Tribune. ![]()
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