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storyman's review against another edition
4.0
Chris Rhatigan’s The Kind of Friends Who Kill Each Other is a nasty, vile, excellent piece of work, which brings up the old question about whether it’s worth reading, watching, listening to anything about people you can’t stand. Why spend time with a bunch of losers when you can read about heroes with a purpose, with a moral centre, with a bit of get-up-and-go? The three friends seem to have drifted through life, meeting up once a week in a depressing bowling alley to drink and talk bollocks to each other, nothing else filling their soulless lives. With normal chit-chat getting stale, they each confess to terrible crimes they’ve committed, but then freak out. As they have all confessed, balance ought to keep them from ratting each other out, but paranoia strikes when wondering whether the barman heard any of it.
What happens next breaks that equilibrium and its the wide-eyed *stare* at the narrator’s thought-processes and actions which speeds you through to the end. Your stomach hurts at his day working in the gas station, at every petty victory his boss can get over him. At his suspicion of the woman who comes into the store every day for a flirt and the desire for a date, which he can’t face, because why would she show interest in a loser like him? At the indifference he has about his “friends”, each of them merely a habit he exercises his jaw with once a week. His thoughts are compelling, running into each other, divided only by commas, coming to a full stop only after twists and turns hit a bend. Then another stream runs on, leaving the reader wanting to escape from the man’s company, like the narrator wants so desperately to avoid his mates. The internal dialogue snaps and fizzles, and smacks you over the head. It contrasts with the forced conversations between characters.
I love the arc of the main character, from that of laid-back loser wanting a quiet life, to a monster making choices others once made for him. You’ll never warm to him, or to any of the others, except maybe for Lindsay, the woman who fancies him. But I couldn’t look away. I rubbernecked all the way to the end.
The only problem I had (with the version I downloaded) were some missing sentences, on maybe about six of the books pages, which brought me out of the story as I thought I’d done a double-page turn.
What happens next breaks that equilibrium and its the wide-eyed *stare* at the narrator’s thought-processes and actions which speeds you through to the end. Your stomach hurts at his day working in the gas station, at every petty victory his boss can get over him. At his suspicion of the woman who comes into the store every day for a flirt and the desire for a date, which he can’t face, because why would she show interest in a loser like him? At the indifference he has about his “friends”, each of them merely a habit he exercises his jaw with once a week. His thoughts are compelling, running into each other, divided only by commas, coming to a full stop only after twists and turns hit a bend. Then another stream runs on, leaving the reader wanting to escape from the man’s company, like the narrator wants so desperately to avoid his mates. The internal dialogue snaps and fizzles, and smacks you over the head. It contrasts with the forced conversations between characters.
I love the arc of the main character, from that of laid-back loser wanting a quiet life, to a monster making choices others once made for him. You’ll never warm to him, or to any of the others, except maybe for Lindsay, the woman who fancies him. But I couldn’t look away. I rubbernecked all the way to the end.
The only problem I had (with the version I downloaded) were some missing sentences, on maybe about six of the books pages, which brought me out of the story as I thought I’d done a double-page turn.
hsienhsien27's review against another edition
3.0
1. A noir novella with the most handsome book cover.
2. It's about a bunch of guys who live in a boring suburbia who have done horrible things.
3. Once again, like I said about My Friend Dahmer, it's about that secret evil that lurks in the shadow of suburbia. A lot of people are bored and they think nothing happens, but guess what, people are stalking and killing each and chopping you up.
4. Friends who keep secrets are not the most trust worthy friends.
5. Because they will kill you and stalk you and make sure you don't spill the milk.
6. Like most noir novels, this is a spitting, cursing, nihilistic little book about a guy who kills his friends and runs away. All because they sat down one day and had some drunken banter about their deepest secrets.
7. Written with prose that is lurid and yet somehow dull in the main character's apathy.
8. One thing that I tend to notice about anti-heros in the noir genre is that for some reason, you think they're really cool. Which is bad, because in real life they are much worse than what is in these novels.
9. Although I will admit that I didn't enjoy it as much as his novella in you don't exist with Pablo D'Stair.
10. But it is excellent in its execution and would probably make a good short indie film.
Rating: 3/5
originally published here: http://notesontheshore.blogspot.com/2015/07/listicle-reviews-violet-dusk-by.html
2. It's about a bunch of guys who live in a boring suburbia who have done horrible things.
3. Once again, like I said about My Friend Dahmer, it's about that secret evil that lurks in the shadow of suburbia. A lot of people are bored and they think nothing happens, but guess what, people are stalking and killing each and chopping you up.
4. Friends who keep secrets are not the most trust worthy friends.
5. Because they will kill you and stalk you and make sure you don't spill the milk.
6. Like most noir novels, this is a spitting, cursing, nihilistic little book about a guy who kills his friends and runs away. All because they sat down one day and had some drunken banter about their deepest secrets.
7. Written with prose that is lurid and yet somehow dull in the main character's apathy.
8. One thing that I tend to notice about anti-heros in the noir genre is that for some reason, you think they're really cool. Which is bad, because in real life they are much worse than what is in these novels.
9. Although I will admit that I didn't enjoy it as much as his novella in you don't exist with Pablo D'Stair.
10. But it is excellent in its execution and would probably make a good short indie film.
Rating: 3/5
originally published here: http://notesontheshore.blogspot.com/2015/07/listicle-reviews-violet-dusk-by.html
melanie_page's review
4.0
I’ve never read Rhatigan before, but I can appreciate a man who gives it all away in the title. The Kind of Friends Who Murder Each Other starts with three friends in a bowling alley who end up confessing the worst thing they’ve ever done. Two admit murder, one confesses to breaking into homes to watch people sleep. But does anyone overhear this conversation? That’s where things get crazy in this novella. The Kind of Friends Who Murder Each Other starts out like a common “I’ve seen some things, man, and you wouldn’t like ‘em!” kind of story and has the typical male in his twenties who smokes and drinks too much. He works a job he hates, and I wasn’t sure if he had any ambition. I’ve heard this story before, and it’s kind of boring.
But Rhatigan does something unusual with his narrator.....
Read the rest at
TNBBC
But Rhatigan does something unusual with his narrator.....
Read the rest at
TNBBC
heypretty52's review
3.0
The writing was well-wrought, if Noir is your bag, but I truly thought the story was going somewhere better.
poultrymunitions's review
4.0
fearless, and inevitable.
exactly what its title suggests, and all the more satisfying for it.
comma splices are used to mash-together thought after thought, one on top of another like crooked, impatient teeth in an unfortunate mouth. it works beautifully.
you just want to be numb. you think you just want to be numb. but the conclusion belies that theory:
what you really want is to be seen.
exactly what its title suggests, and all the more satisfying for it.
comma splices are used to mash-together thought after thought, one on top of another like crooked, impatient teeth in an unfortunate mouth. it works beautifully.
you just want to be numb. you think you just want to be numb. but the conclusion belies that theory:
what you really want is to be seen.
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