Showing posts with label Cornell Woolrich. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cornell Woolrich. Show all posts

Monday, July 13, 2015

Pulp Poem of the Week



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

          Cornell Woolrich
          Hotel Room
          1958

Monday, January 12, 2015

Pulp Poem of the Week



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
with a sound like wet linen
being pounded on a clothesline.

          Cornell Woolrich
          Hotel Room
          1958

Monday, December 29, 2014

Pulp Poem of the Week



This was his Sunday
choke.
It would have squirted
sap from a tree.

          Cornell Woolrich
          Strangler’s Serenade
          1951

Monday, July 7, 2014

Pulp Poem of the Week



She was like a wind-walloping pennant
flickering and buffeting
back against its flagstaff.

          Cornell Woolrich
          Hotel Room
          1958

Thursday, July 3, 2014

Book Review: Cornell Woolrich, Hotel Room (1958)



The thesis of Cornell Woolrich’s Hotel Room is that “hotel rooms . . . are a lot like people”: they begin new and optimistic, and then they decay until they are torn down to make way for office buildings. (Okay, so maybe the analogy isn’t perfect.) The stories in this collection all take place in Room 923 of New York’s (fictitious) St. Anselm Hotel. Woolrich dedicates the book to his mother, with whom he lived for more than 20 years in a hotel. The first story begins on June 20, 1896, the day of the hotel’s grand opening, and the last story takes place on the hotel’s final night, September 30, 1957, which happens to be one week before the death of Woolrich’s mother. If you are a Woolrich fan, it is easy to read all sorts of psycho-significance into Hotel Room’s proceedings. If you are not a fan, then you are left with a collection of entertaining if overwritten stories, which pluck seven dramatic nights from Room 923’s sixty-one year history. Grade B- 

Monday, June 23, 2014

Pulp Poem of the Week



If you put your lips
to a police badge,
you only get
a cold feeling back,
and if you stroke
a .38-caliber revolver,
the .38-caliber revolver
absolutely doesn’t care

          Cornell Woolrich
          Strangler
’s Serenade
          1951

Sunday, June 22, 2014

Book Review: Cornell Woolrich, Strangler's Serenade (1951)



Expanded from the novelette “Four Bars of Yankee Doodle” (1945), Strangler’s Serenade (1951) is Cornell Woolrich running out of gas. If you set out to read Woolrich’s suspense novels in chronological order, this is probably where you stop. The novel’s hero is Champ Prescott, a Big City Cop who is taking forced “rest” after getting shot in the line of duty, but, of course, there will be no rest for him. When he arrives at a boarding house in a small island community, he finds the first murder victim awaiting him. From here, Woolrich foregoes any damaged-cop psychodrama, opting instead for clichés of the Big City Cop showing the yokels how it’s done. Season with a love interest and standard-issue Absurd Woolrich Plotting, and the result is closer to terrible than it is to Woolrich’s Black Period. Grade: C-

Monday, June 25, 2012

Pulp Poem of the Week



a struggling fly,
already trapped
but still able to move,
trailing over flypaper


     Cornell Woolrich

     “The Light in the Window”
     1946

Monday, June 18, 2012

Pulp Poem of the Week



Human beings must sleep.
Give them time enough,
and they can sleep anywhere,
in any situation.
Even on the floor of Purgatory,
even in the mouth of Hell,
they will sleep.
Night comes and they will sleep.


     Cornell Woolrich
     Savage Bride
     1950

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Book Review: Cornell Woolrich, Savage Bride (1950)



Cornell Woolrich puts an everyman and a femme fatale into an H. Rider Haggard blender.  Beware:  These characters don’t spit—they expectorate.  Grade: D

Monday, November 9, 2009

Pulp Poem of the Week



His eyes were dimming crescents,
straining upward into the starred
night sky,
as if trying to make out, to visualize,
some phantom face that no one else
could see.
And what is love anyway but the
unattainable,
the reaching out toward an illusion?

Cornell Woolrich
Rendezvous in Black
1948

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Book Review: Jack London, The Game (1905)



I sought out a copy of Jack London's boxing novel because I thought it might be an instance of naturalistic proto-noir, much like Frank Norris' magnificant
McTeague (1899). Having now read the book, I can report that it is, if nothing else, an instance of creative publishing: The Game is actually a short story that has been stretched through illustrations, typesetting, and good old-fashioned blank pages to appear to be 182 pages long. The man who designed this book could have gotten 50 pages out of the Gettysburg Address. Setting this disappointment aside, I did find The Game to be worth the surprisingly short time it took me to read it. The plot concerns boxer Joe Fleming and his sweetheart, Genevieve. They share an idealized young love, rather like Johnny Marr and Dorothy at the start of Cornell Woolrich's Rendezvous in Black (1948). Joe's attraction to the violence of boxing ("The Game"), however, lends the story an interesting vein of darkness. Grade: C+

Friday, May 15, 2009

Book Review: Robert Bloch, Shooting Star (1958) & Spiderweb (1954)



Truly inspired packaging from Hard Case Crime. This two-fer makes me misty-eyed for bygone days that I am too young to remember. Now if only the novels were better. . . . On a micro level, these books are well done. Robert Bloch has writerly chops to spare, and I enjoyed almost every page. But on a macro level, these books are completely forgettable. The protagonist of Shooting Star is Mark Clayburn, a small-time literary agent who, because he works in the true-crime field, also has a private investigator's license. This combination has interesting possibilities, but they go untapped. The literary agent fades mostly from view; the private investigator takes center stage; and Clayburn emerges as a super-low-cal Philip Marlowe wallowing in the muck of Hollywood. Also set in California, Spiderweb traffics at first in the noir-friendly universe of psychic charlatans but then veers into a fairly conventional blackmail story. In this realm, try William Lindsay Gresham's Nightmare Alley or Cornell Woolrich's Night Has a Thousand Eyes instead. Grade: C+

Monday, April 13, 2009

Book Review: Cornell Woolrich, Rendezvous in Black (1948)



The saddest revenge story ever written? Johnny Marr, an almost anonymous young man in middle America (think Our Town), must find the man who killed his fiancée and make the killer suffer as he has suffered. But there are five possible killers, so they must all suffer. The plots that Johnny executes against them require near-omniscience on his part. Never mind that Johnny could have identified the actual killer much more easily--for better or for worse, Woolrich demands that you grant him absurdities. Grade: A-

Friday, February 13, 2009

Book Review: Cornell Woolrich, Six Times Death [a.k.a. After-Dinner Story] (1944)



Collects six stories: "After-Dinner Story" (1938); "The Night Reveals" (1936); "An Apple a Day" (1944); "Marihuana" (1941); "Rear Window" [original title: "It Had to Be Murder"] (1942); and "Murder-Story" (1937).


This collection ultimately becomes a kind of noir comique. The stories are dark enough, but their premises are so silly that the narratives become as amusing as they are bleak: an eleavator crashes to the basement of an office building, and while its occupants await rescue from the dark, one of them commits murder; an arson investigator for an insurance company discovers that his wife is a pyromaniac; a diamond, stolen and hidden in an apple, is accidentally dropped into a baby carriage that contains four more apples; smoking pot triggers a murder spree; an insomniac, invalid Peeping Tom convinces himself that one of his neighbors is a murderer; a pulp writer somehow manages to describe an actual murder, down to the smallest detail. All of this is fun to read, but it lacks the emotional charge that Woolrich achieves in his better novels. Grade: B-

Monday, February 9, 2009

Pulp Poem of the Week



The Lieutenant flipped a lever
on a desk transmitter.
"Send Spillane in here."

Cornell Woolrich
"Marihuana"
1941

Monday, January 5, 2009

Pulp Poem of the Week



The night was like purple ink.
And it was as though the bottle
that held the ink
had been smashed against the sky
by some insurgent celestial accountant.
For heaven was pitted with its tiny,
twinkling particles of broken glass.
And there seemed to be no one
there to sweep them up.
God's office was closed for the night.

Cornell Woolrich
Fright
1950

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Book Review: Cornell Woolrich, Fright (1950)



Cornell Woolrich fans (myself included) are highly skilled at praising his strengths while discounting his weaknesses. Usually, this means reveling in the momentum of his plots while overlooking their inherent absurdities. Though I give Fright passing marks on the whole, its weaknesses are too great to ignore. Yes, the prose is overwrought, but the greater problem is that the book's protagonist, Prescott Marshall, is not a sympathetic character. I found him self-absorbed an unlikeable from the start, and his problems are problems of his own creation. He is not an innocent victim of the fates, as are many Woolrich heroes, and an unsympathetic Woolrich protagonist can make for tough reading. Grade: C+

Footnote: Fright makes an interesting pair with Seymour Shubin's Witness to Myself (Hard Case Crime, 2006), which covers a similar (but different!) noir landscape.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Book Review: Asa Nonami, The Hunter (1996)



Bland Japanese police procedural featuring a wolf-dog trained to hunt human targets. In sum, a cross between Cornell Woolrich's Black Alibi and boredom. Grade: D+

Monday, June 23, 2008

Pulp Poem of the Week


Take me in some place
where I can't see them.
In away from
the open sky.
Glaring--
a thousand eyes--

Cornell Woolrich
Night Has a Thousand Eyes
1945