Thursday, 30 June 2011
Men stand in dark alleys in pools of yet darker shadow, drinking dark amber fluids from flasks that shine like the very grail. Booze here is salvation. The gun,a cross. Smoke leaks from square unshaven faces, blue as sadness. Neon signs across the alley are greasy and smeared, buzzing in the never ending rain. Trash scutters along concrete. Sirens blare in the distance. Tail-lights wiggle in sky black puddles; the sky itself leans like a drunk on the tallest buildings.
The Canonization of Pulp
Gadfly December 1998
Monday, 27 June 2011
Friday, 24 June 2011
It has always seemed to me to be the perfect setting for at least part of a Noir movie or Hardboiled novel. The bleak motel on outskirts of town or stranded out on a lost highway.
Everything from Detour to No Country for Old Men, Memento, Name of the Game is Death ,then also Identity and even Psycho have used the desolate or run-down locale.
Thursday, 23 June 2011
One of the most gifted of all the great underground Noir writers Goodis was out of print in America for decades after his early death at age 49. He is looked upon as the 'Doomed Poet' amongst Hardboiled writers and critic Dave Moore describes how Goodis used many devices to enhance his books such as something Moore describes as 'thing' language - quoting examples such as ' The empty room looked back at him' and 'quiet came in and sat down'.
Possibly one of the most chilling parts to any Noir novel is the celebrated dialogue sequence between Parry and his dead friend Fellsinger which took place in Dark Passage.
Goodis also spent time in Hollywood attempting to break into screenwriting but after some successes his legendary status remains in the novel of the misfit who's down on his luck.
Best source of info for fans of Goodis is http://www.davidgoodis.com/
Tuesday, 21 June 2011
I got up on my feet and went over to the bowl in the corner and threw cold water on my face. After a little while i felt a little better, but very little. I needed a drink, i needed a lot of life insurance, i needed a vacation , i needed a home in the country. What i had was a coat, a hat and a gun. I put them on and went out of the room ................
Farewell My Lovely
Saturday, 18 June 2011
Friday, 17 June 2011
Oh, it was so dark along this street. Just that hooded, half dimmed light on the other side, too far behind me to do any good any more. Looking downward into the little pool of it's own reflection, like a discreetly retiring eye refusing to see what happened to me................ A car passed once in a while, but even that was nothing, just a swift black shape hastening along on the black tide with a glint of silver at it's prow.
The Black Angel
Cornell Woolrich 1943