Thanks Mark, and thanks for your response to Patrick. I'm happy to let it stand as my response to his latest on the subject, except to say that I don't think our take on Falcon is so much different from his as additional to his. We all agree Spade plays Brigid for his own purposes but accepting at least the possibility that Spade loves her brings an additional level of understanding to the novel and the human condition. These two levels could be examples of Kevin's two noir sub-genres: tragic noir and nihilistic noir.
I'm not reading as much crime fiction as I used to (and at times I'm feeling the lack) and I've never read at a pace that could keep up with your appetite, so I'm not sure I've anything new to you. A lot of my time lately I've been reading and re-reading noir classics (Chester Himes at the moment) and seeing not only how many of the ideas I thought of as temporaly linear in the genre were at least raised very early on. This includes the nihilism that Kevin dislikes, but there's that strain of it in Falcon. I was also struck by the similarities between the Flitcraft Parable and Camus' later Myth of Sisyphus. The absurdity is there in Flitcraft from the get-go and is part of what makes it initially awkward to understand in the context of TMF, where Spade appears to have such definitive, absolute purpose. I could extend this to the similarities of the debate between existentialist relativism and absolute moralism that often shows up (not necessarily with my assistance) in this forum, to that between the patriarchal concept of god versus the concept of a god coming to earth to help us poor sinners out but now you can see where I'm drifting away from pure contemplations within our genre itself.
In that context I've reviewed some books for my murderoutthere website in the past year that may offer something new to you. John Moss has written two books (Grave Doubts and Still Waters) that evoke the depth, complexity and writing of Robertson Davies' Southern Ontario Gothic novels. They're dark, brooding and non-transcendent, inhabiting urban and rural interiors geographically and mentally from a slightly academic and cultural point of view. It's not the hardboiled externality of the mean-streets behaviourism, however, and you might consider the books more influenced by tragic noir than direct examples. But if you liked the psychological undertow in Ross Macdonald's best, and enjoyed the damp claustrophobia of Marlow's meetings with the colonel, the geographical shift should progress swimmingly.
Marc Strange's quickly paced thrillers featuring ex-pug and current hotel house-dick Joe Grundy are less contemplative and perhaps more subtly tragic noir. That all depends upon your view of his employer, the morally questionable and secretive hotel owner Leo Alexander, whose bidding Grundy performs without always understanding the objective.
I like Michael Blair's work too, his Tom McCall series set in Vancouver and the Joe Shoe series in Toronto, but I don't think RA subscribers will find either quite noirish enough.
More nihilistic is Mike Knowles' Darwin's Nightmare, a hillarious collection of familiar hardboiled clichés run through the gauntlet of outrageous, suppressed homo eroticism. Set on the streets of my own Hamilton, where blood-curdling threats regularly up the ante in competitions of thrusting manhood, the novel could be the book for a wonderful musical.
A bit older is Ken Harvey's Inside, about a con released back to the conflicts in his family and the streets of St. John's, Newfoundland. I think I might have mentioned this book on RA before. There's a down-to-earth, foot-soldierly, Friends of Eddy Coyle atmosphere here, but anyone who thinks mean streets are only to be found in the big American cities will be surprised to discover that the famously cheeky Newfoundland sense of humour (of which there are many memorable examples in the book) masks a profoundly tragic mythology, with nihilism and absurdity as the only response. The Rock is much more than ceilidhs and cod, and, sadly, much less.
Best,
Kerry
----- Original Message -----
From: Mark Sullivan
To: rara-avis
Sent: Tuesday, September 08, 2009 5:49 PM
Subject: RE: RARA-AVIS: Re: Random Notes On Redemption
Nice list, Kerry. Got any more? I've already read those and am always looking for more in their vein.
Mark
> To: rara-avis-l@yahoogroups.com
> From: gsp.schoo@murderoutthere.com
> Date: Sat, 5 Sep 2009 12:05:02 -0400
> Subject: Re: RARA-AVIS: Re: Random Notes On Redemption
>
> I have to admit, Mark, that I was being glib in naming a "tragic noir" genre. That said, I think I can come up with a few examples without using up all of what's promising to be a beautiful long weekend here in South Ont. So thanks for asking.
>
> Cock Fighter comes to mind. The idea of pursuing redemption by dedicating yourself to the cruel and pointless craft of training chickens to fight is so madly, sadly and hopelessly tragic as to be comic. I think the book should be seen a companion piece to Willeford's Burnt Orange parody of the transcendent worth of art. In Cock Fighter, the prize is so small as to be meaningless, a cruel parody of how little the wealthy sponsors of the sport have to pay to enjoy their corruption. The protagonist gets his voice back too, but what does he have to say?
>
> In No Country for Old Men the McGuffin is not so much redemption for specific past failures as a larger need for assurance that the protagonist's life, in this case a career in law enforcement, has had value, been for the general good. In the end he must not only face his inability to do much if anything about the death and corruption he sees surrounding him, but he learns that things are no worse now than they ever were, meaning that the heroes and mentors of his past had done no better than he. He resigns as chief of police, hoping to find some peace and satisfaction in the notoriously uncertain waters of personal human relationships.
>
> And that brings me to Lew Griffin, a man who keeps falling off the spiritual wagon and keeps returning to New Orleans damp swill of crime and corruption, trying to right wrongs committed against a handfull of hopeless friends and acquaintances, but in Sallis' bug books, happiness and satisfaction, such as they are, are found in passing moments of companionship and compassion, not by overpowering evil.
>
> Some will say that the protagonists of these novels actually achieve some form of redemption at the end, that the cockfighter reaches his objective, and the retiring cop and timeless detective do find redemption in the company of loved ones, but I'm not sure these things can be called moral redemption, achieving peace through satisfying the moral demands of a supernatural power. That said, it is the nature of redemption, truth and spiritual values that if you truly believe you have achieved them, then by-golly you have, if only until someone comes along to tell you you're wrong.
>
> Best,
> Kerry
>
>
> ----- Original Message -----
> From: Mark Sullivan
> To: rara-avis
> Sent: Friday, September 04, 2009 4:45 PM
> Subject: RE: RARA-AVIS: Re: Random Notes On Redemption
>
>
>
> So Kerry, what are some titles you would suggest in your "favorite sub-genre sub-genre" of "tragic noir"?
> Mark
>
> > To: rara-avis-l@yahoogroups.com
> > From: gsp.schoo@murderoutthere.com
> > Date: Fri, 4 Sep 2009 16:24:41 -0400
> > Subject: Re: RARA-AVIS: Re: Random Notes On Redemption
> >
> > Mark:
> >
> > A tale that illustrates the pointlessness, the impossibility of redemption? Noir, then.
> >
> > Although if you believe in redemption then you might find it tragic. Tragic noir, perhaps.
> >
> > That might be my favourite sub-genre sub-genre.
> >
> > I've gone bald splitting hairs on this list. Unless you've some to spare?
> >
> > Kerry
> >
> > ----- Original Message -----
> > From: Mark Sullivan
> > To: rara-avis
> > Sent: Friday, September 04, 2009 3:20 PM
> > Subject: RE: RARA-AVIS: Re: Random Notes On Redemption
> >
> >
> >
> > Kerry wrote:
> > "I know I'm repeating myself here, but for me the defining characteristic of noir is that it is not just the failure of redemption but the complete absence and pointlessness of redemption. The desire for or the attempt to achieve redemption and failing to do so, a "cautionary tale" as you put it, is tragedy."
> > I see your point about what I brought up being tragedy. But what about a tale of someone who believes in redemption, even seeks it, in a world where it is absent, impossible to achieve? Does that failure to recognize reality still make it tragedy, is that blindness a fatal flaw, or something else instead or in addition to tragedy?
> >
> > [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
> >
> >
> >
> >
> >
> > [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
> >
> >
> >
> > ------------------------------------
> >
> > RARA-AVIS home page: http://www.miskatonic.org/rara-avis/
> > Yahoo! Groups Links
> >
> >
> >
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