The Thin Man by Dashiell Hammett (1934)

Nick and Nora Charles reluctantly solve a murder in Manhattan.

Mystery Review: The Thin Man is the fifth, and final, novel by Dashiell Hammett (1894-1961). The film it inspired in 1934 overshadows the novel itself, thanks to brilliant performances by Myrna Loy and William Powell as the celebrated duo. Amazingly, they drink more in the book than they do in the movie, which means their livers must be on life support. Those who do read the book, however, will find that Hammett made a great leap forward in his last novel, creating more rounded relationships and social interactions with a variety of friends and acquaintances, and without the claustrophobic threats of violence in his previous books. He presents a husband and wife team who actually like each other, and demonstrates greater humor than ever before. The book is dedicated to his long-time partner Lillian Hellman, and I have to believe that their relationship formed the basis for Nick and Nora. Plus there's Asta the dog. There must be a dog. As our story begins, Nick Charles has been retired from detective work for six years and is now happily managing his wife's money. It's all very Manhattan, with bars, clubs, shows, sporting events, and includes a reference to "Levi Oscant," which is the name of well-known society pianist Oscar Levant spelled inside out (he was in movies). The witty banter in The Thin Man is top notch. Nick would prefer to focus on his drinking (it may be too early for breakfast, but it's not too early for a drink), but slowly gets dragged into a murder case involving a former client. Nora is there to help and an endless list of entertaining characters follows. I wonder what I would've thought of the mystery if I hadn't seen the film (several times); I enjoyed it immensely anyway and The Thin Man is one of his two best novels. As an aside, the book includes (for no apparent reason) a rather lengthy account from 1874 of Alfred (aka Alferd) Packer, a Colorado cannibal, which I assume is where most people outside Colorado first heard of the incident. I found the novel irresistible, with my only regret being that the only sequels were from Hollywood.  [5★]

The Crime at Black Dudley by Margery Allingham (1929)

A weekend party at an isolated country house with the foreboding name of Black Dudley becomes a gradually increasing horror.

Mystery Review: The Crime at Black Dudley (aka The Black Dudley Murder) is Margery Allingham's first novel featuring not-yet-detective Albert Campion. In fact, Campion is not the protagonist, disappears on page 172, and doesn't even try to solve the murder (that burden is borne by one George Abbershaw, Scotland Yard consultant, who Allingham seems to have intended to be her intrepid sleuth and carry the story). Although he later proves to be effective at what he does, Campion is described as "a congenital idiot," "a silly ass" with "foolish pale-blue eyes" behind spectacles, and an "absurd falsetto drawl." A small-time criminal who will do anything for money that's not "sordid or vulgar." Although Dorothy Sayers' Peter Wimsey and Ngaio Marsh's Roderick Alleyn were both introduced bearing a certain resemblance to Bertie Wooster, Campion's must be the most ignominious introduction of any major series detective. The Crime at Black Dudley itself is a sort of Gothic thriller featuring a creepy old mansion, hidden passageways, a menacing dagger, and more bizarre and fabulous events than one could expect from a contemporary of Agatha Christie. There is even a Moriarty-esque villain: "this man controls organized gangs of crooks all over Europe and America ... he has the reputation of being utterly ruthless and diabolically clever ... the most dangerous and notorious criminal of modern times." Thus labeled, the reader knows a roller coaster ride lies ahead. Allingham also lets her detective (Abbershaw, not Campion) address "the old problem of Law and Order as opposed to Right and Wrong ... which knows no unraveling." Experienced mystery readers may know where that leads. On that subject, although one may guess the culprit, Allingham gives no clue whatever to the motive. Interestingly Ngaio Marsh seems to have used a few elements of this story to create her own first novel with Roderick Alleyn, A Man Lay Dead (1934). The Crime at Black Dudley is a surprisingly dramatic, even melodramatic tale, with a nice bit of romance and a good bit of action, but only so-so as a mystery and gives me little clue as to the future of Albert Campion who I know will feature in at least 20 more books.  [3★]

Akhmatova Poems by Anna Akhmatova (1989)

A valuable collection of poetry covering the whole writing life by the great Russian poet, Anna Akhmatova (1889-1966).

Poetry Review: Akhmatova Poems is a perfect introduction to a poet too unfamiliar in the West. This Everyman's Library Pocket Poets edition, translated by D.M. Thomas, helps rectify the oversight of a writer who lost many creative years when her work was banned by the Stalin regime. Anna Akhmatova's writing reflects the course of modern Russian history. Known as a St. Petersburg poet, she lived and wrote from the time of the tsars until after the death of Stalin. She began as a leader of the Acmeists, a Russian movement that, similar to the Imagists, was devoted to simple, direct, clear and exact writing, opposed to the convolutions of the earlier Symbolists. Even her later writing is usually concise and pointed. Her work is known for its lyricism and her popular early poems told of love's sorrows: "How unbearably white/the blind on the white window." For her, love consisted of both passion and suffering, parting, leading to anger and then to loneliness and despair. "An autumn whisper between the maples/Kept urging 'die with me'." But pain could find some comfort in a confessional sort of religion, flesh balanced by spirit. "... a red maple leaf/marks the pages of the Song of Songs." A patriot in the truest sense of the word, she refused to emigrate despite her dissent from the Revolution, government disapproval (her works banned, her husband shot, her son sent to a labor camp), and the hardship of the Second World War. After publishing mostly lyrical love poetry from 1912 to 1922 she was unable to publish until 1940. She then wrote poems in solidarity with London and Paris. But the poems of this later period primarily reflected the country's pain and tragedy during the war (she was one of those besieged in Leningrad before being evacuated) in poems that were dark and despairing, but demonstrated her fervent love of country by promoting sacrifice and extolling the martyrs of the war. "We've all had to learn not to sleep for three years./In the morning we shall find out/Who has died in the night." Her earlier poems, however, led to Akhmatova being famously condemned as "a nun and a harlot" by a government official in 1946. After this attack, her work was again suppressed until 1958. "The glass doorbell rings/shrilly ... Is today really the date? ... Don't let it be me." In her final period she could examine the years and losses during the Stalinist era. Akhmatova reflected on the tragedies perpetrated by the government and Russian experience and history during her lifetime and 60-year writing career (beginning in 1907), as in her famous works Requiem, which addressed the sadness and suffering mixed with steadfast hope, but always outraged by the injustice of the Stalinist era; and A Poem Without a Hero, a historical epic of the times. There is a short but helpful "Notes" section at the end, yet for non-Russians there is so much we miss and don't understand. My one small complaint is that translating a foreign language into rhyme well seems impossible to me. Other than that, this volume has much to appreciate. There is almost too much; the palette is so broad the book requires rereading the rereading. The Everyman's Library edition is variously titled Akhmatova (on the cover), Akhmatova Poems (on the title page), and Anna Akhmatova Poems (on page 11). Whatever, it is a perfect gift and fits easily in any backpack or purse.  [5★]

Dark Passage by David Goodis (1946)

An innocent man breaks out of prison only to find life on the outside is no more free. 

Mystery Review: Dark Passage takes the statement "nobody ever said life was fair" to the breaking point. If it wasn't for bad luck, the wrongly convicted Vincent Parry wouldn't have any luck at all. When he somehow escapes prison he finds almost the whole world is against him. David Goodis is one of those "best writer you've never heard of" discoveries. While to my mind not in a league with Hammett, Chandler, Mosley, or Ross MacDonald as far as enduring works, you won't miss reading them while reading Goodis. Dark Passage features a dark, pessimistic view of the world, lonely and isolated, that makes the reader hope even when there's no chance of hope because that's all there is left. "I tell you it ain't bearable when a person has nothing to look forward to." When the novel hits various emotional peaks, the panicked, stream-of-consciousness, hearing-voices style of writing is overwhelming. In a world of paranoia, Parry doesn't want much, maybe the love a good woman, doesn't matter much about her looks. No hard-boiled, leering descriptions of pulchritudinous dames here. He's a man on the outside looking in, envying those who have what he doesn't: "He liked to see them coming in wearing their expensive clothes, smoking their expensive cigars, talking with their expensive voices." Goodis mixes plot with characterization with the best of them and sucks the reader into his world, which is all we can ask of a writer. Dark Passage is also a film noir with Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall (1947).  [4★]

Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata (2016)

A 36-year-old woman works in a convenience store for 18 years excluding all else in her life to the consternation of family, friends, and co-workers.

Book Review: Convenience Store Woman is one of those rare books that feels as if it was written just for me, like We Have Always Lived in the Castle, My Year of Rest and Relaxation, or just about any of Kafka's short stories. I know Keiko here as I know Merricat. This book is 163 pages long and I need about that many pages to discuss it as I found myself relating on too many levels. In one sense it's about finding the life that works for you no matter what the rest of the world thinks. Being a store worker is for her "the only way I can be a normal person." Many of us work hard at being normal: "It was the first time anyone had had ever taught me how to accomplish a normal facial expression and manner of speech." But it's okay to be seen as odd, different. Live your life, don't let others live your life. It's also about the joy that can be found in a job well done, the satisfaction of of having complete command and understanding of what you're doing and how to do it. Keiko can read customers' "minutest movements" and her body "acts reflexively in response." Convenience Store Woman also looks at how a demanding job in the old world can start to take over life. Laundry, groceries, cooking, clothing all have to fit into the dictates of work. The job begins to define all elements of life. Another side of this view is the completely unnatural world that is modern work, divorced from us as humans, and what the working world makes us into: cogs in the machine. "At that moment, for the first time ever, I felt I'd become a part in the machine of society. I've been reborn, I thought. That day, I actually became a normal cog in society." Temporary, easily replaced, just another widget along the conveyor belt. Although Keiko, the main character in Convenience Store Woman, has very little life, actually it's the same and no less than the life of anyone working for someone else. Like Keiko we're all temporary. It can be read as about disability or depression or any need or lack with which we have to cope, any way that we can. Yet I also simply wanted to read it realistically. What if this was me. Toward the end of the story when everything starts to fall apart, it becomes clear that Keiko would make an excellent manager, and perhaps only her being considered odd has kept her from being promoted. A thoughtful book that made me think, that took me inside someone else's skin, but also a quick, enjoyable read that I related to my own life. After reading I have two wishes: (1) that Sayaka Murata will now have more of her work translated into English and other languages, and (2) that Keiko gets to be in charge of her very own convenience store.  [5★]

The Wounded and the Slain by David Goodis (1955)

A couple goes to Jamaica to salvage their failing marriage, which turns into a dangerous walk on the wild side.

Mystery Review: The Wounded and the Slain is ambitious, a novel that wants to fit into that lurid nether world between crime and straight fiction, like a low-calorie version of The Bonfire of the Vanities. David Goodis (1917-67) examines what happens when the unthinkable intrudes on everyday life, when that everyday life consists of an alcoholic husband and a traumatized wife. The Wounded and the Slain is an odd sort of walk on the wild side, a venture into the unknown, only here the unknown is Jamaica where a married couple go to save their almost crumbled, wholly uncommunicative nine-year marriage. The story is alternately told by the wife and husband. He a straying and committed and eager drunk, rapidly losing touch with any logic in the world -- "To do anything logically was too much of an effort ... it was nothing more than a blindfold that covered the inner eye." She guilt-ridden, haunted by repressed childhood memories (which Goodis also touched on in Of Tender Sin (1952)). They both find alternatives and options in Kingston, one in the swanky, walled resort, the other in the violent slums. Eventually both risk their lives trying to do what they think is right. Not a mystery (though a death occurs), more a seamy slice of life Nelson Algren-style. When readers cite hard-boiled novels as angsty and existential, The Wounded and the Slain is what they're talking about. Just enough thoughtful moments to let the reader think: "In prison the art of wrongdoing has many professors." A taste of what might happen when one gives up on everything. The ending is just hard-edged enough to comfortably fit with the rest of the book.  [3½★]

Woman in the Dark by Dashiell Hammett (1933)

A fleeing young woman stumbles upon the home of a man recently released from prison, but all is not as it seems.

Mystery Review: Woman in the Dark is subtitled "a novel of dangerous romance." I guess. More a long short story than a novel (or even novella) and the romance is on the rough and abrupt side, but what does one expect in 70 generously margined pages. Hammett's protagonists seem tossed on the sea of fate, knowing that there's little about life they can change so it's barely worth even trying, though they do. His heroes mostly resign themselves to accepting what comes, however painful it might be. The Ned Beaumont kidnapping scene in The Glass Key is the epitome of this, in which he calmly accepts beating after beating like a turtle pushing against a wall. Our protagonist here has less to say and do than most, but the titular "Woman in the Dark," a German immigrant (apparently not a refugee) rises to the occasion. And the bad guys are pretty bad. The story is too short though, really needed to be expanded and developed, so ends up just a quick bite to enjoy and move on. Woman in the Dark was also a 1934 film with Fay Wray (the scream queen of King Kong fame). The movie is no better or worse than the book, but at least fleshes out the skeleton presented here.  [3★]