I recently finished reading Blonde Faith by Walter Mosley, the 11th and final novel in the acclaimed Easy Rawlins mystery series (the one that President Clinton made famous when he declared it his all-time favorite). Like the 10 installments before it, it was excellent. Instead of reviewing this particular book, I want to commemorate the end of the series by sharing a few personal thoughts on the collection as a whole. I’ll try to avoid spoilers.

Although I really, really hate to see the series come to an end, it’s high time that it does. No matter how enthralling and well-written, any mystery series centered on the detective capers of a middle-aged grandfather (which is what Easy has become by the last book) is bound to become a tough sell sooner or later. I’m sure Mosley was more cognizant of that than anyone, which is why Blonde Faith ended with such finality.

Each book in the series has a color in its title. I had read four of the books and hadn’t consciously noticed this pattern until it came up in a magazine article I read.

A Little Yellow Dog was my favorite book in the series, followed closely by Cinnamon Kiss.

Jackson Blue was my favorite secondary character. Every time his character made an appearance I was reminded that a beautiful mind and an ugly soul can coexist in one person.

I understand about Easy and Bonnie Shay, I do.

Mosley’s depictions of postwar Los Angeles are so vivid and historically accurate it’s like time-traveling.

I discovered the series when a good friend of mine insisted I read Black Betty. I loved it just like she said I would and can’t thank her enough for the introduction.

Most people don’t know that Walter Mosley is bi-racial (his father is black and his mother is Jewish.) I only mention that fact at all to say that Mosley’s striking ability—and choice—to chronicle the joys and pains of the black experience in America is even more interesting that I originally thought.

Of the several themes that Mosley weaved throughout the series, the most fascinating is this: Your good deeds today will not absolve you of the evil you did yesterday. No matter how much Christmas Black loves and cares for Easter Dawn, they can’t ever be a normal family because of what he once did on the other side of the world. No matter how grand Jewelle’s real estate empire becomes, she can’t forget what she did to Mofass to get it started. No matter how much of a safe haven Laselle Latour’s female-only boarding house provides for women in L.A., it will never make up for the bordello that she ran back in Houston.

The only character who was exempt from the gravity of this moral black hole is Raymond “Mouse” Alexander, the diminutive killer who was Easy’s right-hand man. Mouse would shoot you through the eye for breakfast and go dancing for dinner. As Easy discovered on many occasions, having Mouse as a best friend was like keeping a full-grown tiger for a pet.

I will miss having another Easy Rawlins mystery to look forward to. Mosley is among the best writers of his generation and the life of my mind has been enriched by these stories. One of my favorite passages from the series is this:

Proof is a funny thing. For policeman and for lawyers it depends on tangible evidence: fingerprints, eyewitnesses, irrefutable logic, or self-incrimination. But for me evidence is like morning mist over a complex terrain. You see the landscape and then it’s gone.

And then it’s gone.