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nghia's review against another edition
2.0
I was looking for a light palate cleanser; a quick read. This is an old pulp/noir novel (originally published in 1947) that was...okay.
Reading old books, especially anything that isn't "literature", is tricky because reading them makes it immediately apparent just how quickly society has actually improved. It is always a bit startling how much casual racism, sexism, misogyny, police brutality, and so on there are in books like these. You've got to be able to overlook that in order to find enjoyment. None of that is really the reason for my 2-star rating; I've read enough pulp to know it comes with territory.
The 2-star rating is because, while the core mystery is actually pretty well-done (), none of the characters have much....character. Scott Jordan is a lawyer (a nice change of pace from the usual private eyes) but other than a few standard noir-tropes I couldn't really tell you anything particularly memorable about him. The police detective is actually competent, mostly friendly towards Scott Jordan, and they actually work together. Again, a nice change of pace from the usual noir tropes. But that's not enough to elevate the book.
The de rigeur noir love interest has some potential to be interesting: she's not a femme fatale, just a normal, lovely girl unrelated to the murder-mystery and (in the original version of the story) they end up happily married by the end of the book. But she's written in such a cringe-inducing way it never delivers on any of the potential. She's 22 and has (apparently) been smitten with him since she was a teenager, though they haven't seen one another in several years. Within a day or two of meeting she's talking about marriage in a weird stalkerish way.
Sidenote: There's a delightful passage where she makes him dinner but it is all freezer-dinners from Birdseye. He can't even tell the difference from homemade and goes on about how amazing they are. I feel like that's a perfect summation of mid-century American culinary levels.
Anyway, the book is okay. It's fine. It's not bad. If you're looking for a mid-century noir book this will hit the spot. Masur and the Scott Jordan series were apparently best sellers in the 1950s (this book sold over 1,000,000 copies in its hey-day) but have mostly been forgotten. I can understand why.
Weird note: When I was a kid I read a collection of short suspense mystery stories that I loved. It was edited by "Alfred Hitchcock". Turns out it was actually Harold Masur using a fake name.
Reading old books, especially anything that isn't "literature", is tricky because reading them makes it immediately apparent just how quickly society has actually improved. It is always a bit startling how much casual racism, sexism, misogyny, police brutality, and so on there are in books like these. You've got to be able to overlook that in order to find enjoyment. None of that is really the reason for my 2-star rating; I've read enough pulp to know it comes with territory.
The 2-star rating is because, while the core mystery is actually pretty well-done (
Spoiler
"a girl had been deliberately poisoned and a man killed by mistake" (or so everyone thought!) leading to a pretty good red-herringThe de rigeur noir love interest has some potential to be interesting: she's not a femme fatale, just a normal, lovely girl unrelated to the murder-mystery and (in the original version of the story) they end up happily married by the end of the book. But she's written in such a cringe-inducing way it never delivers on any of the potential. She's 22 and has (apparently) been smitten with him since she was a teenager, though they haven't seen one another in several years. Within a day or two of meeting she's talking about marriage in a weird stalkerish way.
“Shall I buy some Hindu saris?”
“Huh? What the devil for?”
“In case you take me to India on a honeymoon.” I laughed.
Sidenote: There's a delightful passage where she makes him dinner but it is all freezer-dinners from Birdseye. He can't even tell the difference from homemade and goes on about how amazing they are. I feel like that's a perfect summation of mid-century American culinary levels.
Anyway, the book is okay. It's fine. It's not bad. If you're looking for a mid-century noir book this will hit the spot. Masur and the Scott Jordan series were apparently best sellers in the 1950s (this book sold over 1,000,000 copies in its hey-day) but have mostly been forgotten. I can understand why.
Weird note: When I was a kid I read a collection of short suspense mystery stories that I loved. It was edited by "Alfred Hitchcock". Turns out it was actually Harold Masur using a fake name.
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