Noirboiled Notes

Pulp poems, book reviews, and other tidbits from the noirboiled world

Monday, March 27, 2017

Pulp Poem of the Week

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With my luck, I’d be the one to eat the hearty meal while the warden’s private line stayed as quiet as the grave.           Don ...
Monday, September 26, 2016

Pulp Poem of the Week

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some women can sing and some can paint and some can dance and some can be faithful           Don Tracy           Last Year’s Sno...
Monday, April 11, 2016

Pulp Poem of the Week

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Married people always kill one another. Sometimes it takes them fifty years.           Lawrence Block           A Stab in the Dark       ...
2 comments:
Monday, March 21, 2016

Pulp Poem of the Week

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When a man has his head cut off, he’s never bothered again with sinus trouble.           Don Tracy           Last Year’s Snow ...
Monday, February 15, 2016

Pulp Poem of the Week

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I was a machine, and my arm was the arm of the machine, and the gun was a part of the machine. And when the machine ’s finger contracted t...
Monday, September 28, 2015

Pulp Poem of the Week

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He got hold of a gun. His first killing followed automatically.           James Hadley Chase           No Orchids for Miss Blandish       ...
Monday, September 21, 2015

Pulp Poem of the Week

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I’ll remember what you said when I’m half way to heaven on a roller coaster.           Don Tracy           Last Year’s Snow     ...
Monday, September 7, 2015

Pulp Poem of the Week

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Marvelous. I ’ve just committed my first venal sin and it feels marvelous.           P. J. Wolfson           Is My Flesh of Brass?     ...
Monday, August 24, 2015

Pulp Poem of the Week

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A man named Barney Manton. A man who believed in hitting and hitting hard, because if you hit hard enough, you always got something, if o...
2 comments:
Monday, August 10, 2015

Pulp Poem of the Week

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no man has ever been trapped except through his emotions           Donald E. Westlake           The Mercenaries           1960
Monday, July 13, 2015

Pulp Poem of the Week

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Who wants to go to heaven in the rain on an empty stomach, soaking newspapers thrown over you without a dime in your pocket?        ...
Monday, April 13, 2015

Pulp Poem of the Week

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The past was filling the room like a tide of whispers.           Ross Macdonald           The Instant Enemy           1968
Monday, April 6, 2015

Pulp Poem of the Week

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A favor’s no good unless you pay for it.           Lawrence Block           A Stab in the Dark           1981
Monday, March 30, 2015

Pulp Poem of the Week

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for too many years the only exercise I had got was bending my elbow           Lawrence Block           Time to Murder and Create          ...
Monday, March 23, 2015

Pulp Poem of the Week

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There was nothing of the cheap moll in this set-up. She was not just paint and powder. You could scratch this dame and still find her good...
Monday, March 16, 2015

Pulp Poem of the Week

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You have a couple of hours of fun. And then you have a lot of hell.           Don Tracy           Last Year’s Snow           1937...
Monday, March 9, 2015

Pulp Poem of the Week

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spread-eagled on the bed like a steamrollered Arthur Dimmesdale           Donald E. Westlake           What ’s So Funny?           2007
Monday, March 2, 2015

Pulp Poem of the Week

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Don’t ever get a girl that’s gotta get in by ten o’clock. Eleven, yes, but not ten.           P. J. Wolfson           Is My Flesh ...
Monday, February 23, 2015

Pulp Poem of the Week

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You take a guy who writes a book. Can you say why he can write a book while you can’t? Or another Joe can paint your picture so it looks j...
Monday, February 16, 2015

Pulp Poem of the Week

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she thinks you’re a grown man; either go down and do it, or go up and tell her that she’s wrong           Charles Williams           Agro...
Monday, February 9, 2015

Pulp Poem of the Week

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An ounce of caution is worth a pound of plasma.           Donald E. Westlake           The Mercenaries           1960
Monday, February 2, 2015

Pulp Poem of the Week

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That was the moment his mouth opened, his throat closed, his eyes bulged, his heart contracted, and his hands began to shake like fringe o...
Monday, January 26, 2015

Pulp Poem of the Week

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Out of food, out of liquor, even out of coffee.           Lionel White           The Snatchers           1953
Monday, January 19, 2015

Pulp Poem of the Week

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“In the room the women come and go Talking of Michael Angelo.” Does that suggest anything to you, sir? Yeah—it suggests to...
Monday, January 12, 2015

Pulp Poem of the Week

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He coiled a forearm far back of his own shoulder, swung rabidly with it, caught the bodyguard flat-handed on the side of the face w...
Monday, January 5, 2015

Pulp Poem of the Week

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It is is not necessary to know what a person is a afraid of. It is enough to know the person is afraid.           Lawrence Block         ...
Monday, December 29, 2014

Pulp Poem of the Week

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This was his Sunday choke. It would have squirted sap from a tree.           Cornell Woolrich           Strangler’s Serenade           195...
Wednesday, December 24, 2014

Book Review: Lawrence Block, A Stab in the Dark (1981)

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Spoilers follow:   I feel like a broken record, or maybe a corrupted MP3 file, waiting for the great series that I know is coming but is n...
Monday, December 22, 2014

Pulp Poem of the Week

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So rarely is the truth the simplest possible answer.           Donald E. Westlake           “Party Animal”           19...
Monday, December 15, 2014

Book Review: Lawrence Block, In the Midst of Death (1976)

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Three books into the Matthew Scudder series, I suspect that there may be some self-fulfilling prophecy at work in my reactions thus far: I...

Pulp Poem of the Week

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I hope I break even today; I could use the cash.           Donald E. Westlake           “Horse Laugh”           1986
Tuesday, December 9, 2014

Book Review: Lawrence Block, Time to Murder and Create (1976)

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In  Time to Murder and Create , the second Matthew Scudder novel, a dead man leaves Scudder payment to find his killer, and our hero pur...
Monday, December 8, 2014

Pulp Poem of the Week

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Life is a gamble, at terrible odds— if it was a bet you wouldn’t take it.           Tom Stoppard           Rosencrantz ...
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David Rachels
THE NOIR ZONE
David is editor of the first-ever collection of Gil Brewer's short fiction, Redheads Die Quickly and Other Stories.
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