--- In
rara-avis-l@yahoogroups.com, JIM DOHERTY
<jimdohertyjr@...> wrote:
>
> However, a minor correction, the First Novel
Edgar
> (the only category that goes all the way back to
the
> first Edgar ceremony, that's been given every
single
> year since that first ceremony, and survives to
this
> day pretty much unaltered), was not the only
category
> for which Edgars were awarded in 1946.
>
> There was also an award for best screenplay, which
was
> won by John Paxton for MURDER, MY SWEET (with
THE
> HOUSE ON 92ND STREET as a runner-up), and one for
Best
> Radio Series (IIRC, that first year it was a
tie
> between ELLERY QUEEN and MR. AND MRS. NORTH,
though
> SUSPENSE and, to a lesser degree, DRAGNET, would
come
> to dominate this category in later
years).
Thanks for the correction, Jim. I am away from home and all
my references and when I checked online, the MWA has a
searchable database but I didn't see how to get a
comprehensive listing of Edgars by year. So I went to another
website but now realize it only included the fiction
categories.
> Getting back to Woolrich, the quality of his few
later
> novels kind of proves my point, because during
this
> period, Woolrich was still turning out
first-rate
> short fiction. He'd win a cash award from EQMM
for
> "One Drop of Blood," for example, a masterful
inverted
> detective story.
>
No, I don't agree at all that this proves your point. We are
talking about his lifetime career, not the relative quality
of long vs. short for a given time period. I agree he wrote
some excellent short stories late in his career including the
one you mention as well as one I cited awhile back that was
published in the year of his death in 1968.
One of the ways writing a novel is different from writing a
short story is that it requires sustained concentration over
much longer period of time. Given the distress of his
mother's illness and then death, followed by his increasing
drinking problem and deeping depression, I doubt he was
capable of doing more than he did--turning out a few good
short stories, dusting off some old pulp stories and selling
them to editors as new novels or short stories. He did the
later repeatedly as he conned his way along in his final
years. But his final years cannot, I don't believe, be used
as a judgement for his career anymore than I could pick out
the 1940s when he had his best years as a novelist. You may
be right but let's look at the whole career.
Richard Moore
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