Pulp Poem of the Week

I loved her
like a rabbit loved
a rattlesnake.

          James M. Cain
          Double Indemnity
          1943

Pulp Poem of the Week

they had the Greek
dead enough
to suit them
  
     James M. Cain
     The Postman Always Rings Twice
     1934

Pulp Poem of the Week

A working man
is his own answer
to all questions,
an idle man is
is a riddle
they all try to guess.

James M. Cain
Serenade
1937

Book Review: James M. Cain, Serenade (1937)

The following review contains spoilers . . . if you do not want to know the general contours of Serenade's plot, read no further . . . Opera singer John Howard Sharp is a self-loathing homosexual who wants to believe he is like any other man. At one point he protests that all men are 5% gay but that most men are fortunate enough not to meet that special someone who triggers that 5%. Unfortunately for John, he has met that special someone, and it turns out that homosexual activity has the little-known side effect of ruining a man's ability to sing. Therefore, John takes drastic measures, raping his way back into the world of heterosexuality and thereby reclaiming his singing voice. When his rape victim falls in love with him, all seems right with his world, until his gay ex-lover turns out to be an effete but vengeful predator. A regrettable novel in many ways . . . worth reading only as a period piece. Grade: D+

Book Review: Don Tracy, Criss-Cross (1934)

Don Tracy's Criss-Cross was published the same year as James M. Cain's debut novel, The Postman Always Rings Twice. If Criss-Cross had been written two decades later, it would have fit easily into the Gold Medal line. Narrator Johnny Thompson, an ex-boxer who works as a guard for the Laird Armored Car Agency, wants nothing more than the love of femme fatale Anna Krebak, who dates Johnny when he has money, ignores Johnny when he is broke, and makes no effort to hide her desires and motivations: money, money, money. Johnny is no fool—he sees Anna for what she is—but he is still a fool—he cannot leave Anna well enough alone. Anna soon marries an acquaintance of Johnny's, a local hood who has money enough to keep her satisfied, and when the hood becomes ambitious for a big score, his thoughts turn, naturally, to Johnny and the Laird Armored Car Agency. The first half of Criss-Cross is a bit leisurely in pacing, but its second half is strong. Especially worth reading for those interested in the early development of noir. Grade: B+

James Lee Burke's Best Mysteries of All Time

James Lee Burke's list of his choices for the best mysteries of all time has strangely disappeared from the Parade magazine website, so, as a public service, I am reproducing his list and annotations here. This list suggests, among other things, that (a) Burke may not have read very many mysteries and (b) he may be friends with Ron Hansen and Michael Connelly:

Ron Hansen's Mariette in Ecstasy is a masterful metaphysical story dealing with the stigmata. Ultimately, it's about a woman who represents courage and altruism in the midst of mediocrity.

James M. Cain once said his stories were about the ultimate human tragedy—people getting what they want. Double Indemnity, a 1930s murder mystery involving an insurance fraud scheme, exemplifies his best work.

Mr. Majestyk, by Elmore Leonard, features a farmer who runs afoul of the Mob. It's one of the best portrayals of professional criminals I have ever read and a beautiful accomplishment in terms of dialogue and style.

Selected Tales and Sketches is a collection of Nathaniel Hawthorne's stories, perhaps the best allegories ever written about the nature of good and evil.

The city of Los Angeles is a protagonist in The Black Echo, Michael Connelly's superb tale about Vietnam vets pulling off the score of scores. Connelly writes with the knowledge and experience of a hard-nosed police reporter, but he's also an artist.

Cormac McCarthy's No Country for Old Men deals with evil that seems to have no origin. The writing is spartan, the imagery and dialogue as clean as razor cuts in leather. The story seems derived from the collective unconscious; it is frightening and unforgettable.

[Originally published in Parade on April 19, 2009.]

Top Ten Novels Reviewed in 2009

1. Bill S. Ballinger, Portrait in Smoke (1950)
2. James M. Cain, Double Indemnity (1936)
3. James McKimmey, The Long Ride (1961)
4. John D. MacDonald, Soft Touch (1958)
5. Gil Brewer, The Brat (1957)
6. Bill S. Ballinger, The Tooth and the Nail (1955)
7. Marvin H. Albert, Devil in Dungarees (1960)
8. W. R. Burnett, High Sierra (1940)
9. Harry Whittington, Hell Can Wait (1960)
10. Paul Tremblay, The Little Sleep (2009)

Book Review: James M. Cain, Double Indemnity (1936)

As lean as noir comes with pacing so relentless Cain seems to be daring you to notice that his razor-thin characters disappear when viewed from the side--and when you do notice, you don't care. Grade: A

Pulp Poem of the Week

I had seen

so many houses burned down,

so many cars wrecked,

so man corpses

with blue holes in their temples,

so many awful things

that people had pulled

to crook the wheel,

that that stuff didn't seem real

to me any more.

If you don't understand that,

go to Monte Carlo

or some other place

where there's a big casino,

sit at a table,

and watch the face of the man

that spins the little ivory ball.

After you've watched it a while,

ask yourself how much

he would care

if you went out and

plugged yourself in the head.

His eyes might drop

when he heard the shot,

but it wouldn't be from worry

whether you lived or died.

It would be to make sure

you didn't leave

a bet on the table,

that he would have to cash

for your estate.

James M. Cain

Double Indemnity

1936

Pulp Poem of the Week

He told about all the women

what he had knowed,

and all the saloons he'd been in,

and some of it was a lie,

'cause if all those saloons

was as swell as he said they was

they'd of throwed him out.

James M. Cain

"Pastorale"

1928

Pulp Poem of the Week

Her hair was falling over

her shoulders in snaky

curls. Her eye was all black,

and her breasts weren't drawn

up and pointing at me,

but soft, and spread out

in two big pink splotches.

She looked like the great

grandmother of every

whore in the world.

The devil got his

money's worth that night.

James M. Cain

The Postman Always Rings Twice

1934