Robert Aickman: The Subtle Art of the Uncanny and the Detective’s Mystery

 

Robert Aickman (1914–1981) is widely regarded as a master of the “strange story” — a form of ghost story that defies traditional horror clichés, instead focusing on ambiguous, psychological, and unsettling narratives. Unlike typical ghost tales centered on overt supernatural fright, Aickman’s stories dwell in the realm of the unknown and the inexplicable, leaving readers with a lingering sense of unease rather than clear resolution.

Aickman’s work occupies a fascinating space between ghost stories and detective fiction. Both genres share a preoccupation with uncovering hidden truths, probing mysteries, and exploring the unknown. However, where traditional detective fiction often leads to a logical resolution and the restoration of order, Aickman’s stories embrace ambiguity, resisting definitive answers and instead emphasizing the uncanny.

The concept of the “unheimlich” — the uncanny or eerie — is central to Aickman’s narrative style. His protagonists frequently encounter situations where reality seems to shift, and the boundary between the natural and supernatural blurs. This creates a psychological suspense akin to detective fiction’s tension but without the clear solution or culprit.

For example, in stories like “The Hospice” and “Ringing the Changes,” Aickman masterfully builds mystery that resembles a detective’s quest, yet the revelations are intangible and haunting rather than concrete. The reader is left to grapple with uncertainty and the haunting question of what is truly real.

Aickman’s influence extends beyond ghost stories, impacting writers of detective fiction and psychological thrillers who seek to blend atmosphere, ambiguity, and complex character psychology. His work invites readers to accept that some mysteries may never be fully solved, reflecting the often ambiguous nature of truth itself.

In bridging ghost stories and detective fiction, Robert Aickman offers a unique literary experience—one where the hunt for answers becomes as unsettling as the unknown forces lurking just beyond the veil.

Franc Kafka

Franz Kafka (1883–1924) is not a traditional crime writer, yet his works resonate deeply with themes found in crime and noir literature. His stories often explore alienation, oppressive bureaucracies, and the elusive nature of justice—elements that overlap with the psychological and existential layers of many crime narratives.

One of Kafka’s most famous works, The Metamorphosis, tells the story of Gregor Samsa, who inexplicably transforms into a giant insect. This surreal and haunting tale delves into themes of identity, isolation, and the struggle to communicate—echoing the psychological torment often present in noir protagonists.

Kafka’s novel The Trial centers on Josef K., a man arrested and prosecuted by a mysterious and inaccessible authority for an unspecified crime. The novel captures the nightmare of being trapped in a system where guilt is assumed, but the reasons remain unknown. This sense of helplessness before an opaque legal system is a powerful precursor to the mistrust and paranoia common in crime fiction.

In The Castle, Kafka portrays a protagonist who attempts to gain access to an elusive authority, only to be thwarted by endless bureaucratic obstacles and incomprehensible rules. The novel symbolizes the struggle against an indifferent and impenetrable system, a theme that resonates with noir’s skepticism of institutions and power.

Kafka also wrote numerous excellent short stories, such as In the Penal Colony and The Hunger Artist, which further explore themes of existential dread, authority, and human suffering.

Tragically, Kafka died young at the age of 40 from tuberculosis, leaving behind unfinished works. During his lifetime, he was largely unrecognized and wished for all his manuscripts to be destroyed upon his death. However, his close friend Max Brod defied this request and published Kafka’s writings, which have since become some of the most influential works in modern literature.

Boris Vian - Blues For A Wild Cat And Other Stories

 

Boris Vian was many things — novelist, poet, jazz trumpeter, engineer, translator, and member of the Collège de ’Pataphysique, a group dedicated to the science of imaginary solutions. But what’s often forgotten is that before diving headfirst into surrealism and absurdity, he walked the mean streets of noir — or at least, parodied them with brilliant venom.

His infamous debut novel I Spit on Your Graves, written under the pseudonym Vernon Sullivan, was meant to mock the hard-boiled American crime genre — and yet, it worked almost too well. That duality—between love and critique, structure and chaos—is present throughout his short story collection BluesForA Wild Cat And Other Stories, a masterclass in bizarre, tightly wound narratives where logic is secondary to rhythm, and violence dances with irony.

In this collection, Vian plays games — with language, genre, expectations, and reality itself. The stories are short, punchy, and often end without warning, like a gunshot in the dark. Some border on philosophical fables, others on noir sketches turned inside-out.

One story might present a police interrogation that veers into dream logic; another might involve a crime that exists only in the mind of the narrator. There are murders, betrayals, bureaucratic absurdities, and characters that dissolve under scrutiny like shadows at dusk. But what ties them together isn’t plot — it’s tone: a sharp, jazzy dissonance that echoes the post-war existential mood.

Vian’s love of jazz is palpable in the way these stories move — syncopated, unexpected, full of improvisation. His language swings between streetwise and poetic, often in the same paragraph. There's a spontaneity in his voice that feels both reckless and meticulously constructed.

And then there's death. Nearly every story flirts with it. Whether literal or symbolic, death is never far from the surface — but Vian doesn’t treat it solemnly. Instead, he mocks it, courts it, plays with it like a child who doesn’t understand its finality. In that sense, his work feels closer to Kafka than Chandler — though he translated the latter and clearly absorbed something of the American crime aesthetic.

This is noir as seen through a cracked mirror: the trench coats remain, but the motives have melted. The detective might be insane, or dead, or invented. The femme fatale might be a metaphor. You don’t read Vian for resolution — you read him for the confusion that feels truer than clarity.

Of course, not every story lands. Some feel more like sketches or thought experiments than fully formed tales. But that’s part of Vian’s charm: he doesn’t pretend to follow the rules. He never did. He was a patafysician, after all — and rules were just material to be reworked into jazz riffs and literary pranks.

Bruges-La-Morte - Georges Rodenbach

Although I mostly focus on crime fiction here, I occasionally step outside the genre to explore dark, psychological works that share similar themes. Bruges-la-Morte is not a crime novel in the traditional sense, but its atmosphere of obsession, death, and emotional unraveling make it deeply compelling to fans of noir and psychological thrillers.

Few novels manage to so completely merge internal anguish with the external world as Georges Rodenbach's Bruges-la-Morte (1892), a haunting and melancholic portrait of loss, obsession, and spiritual decay. Often hailed as one of the quintessential works of the Symbolist and Decadent movements, this short novel offers an experience that is as atmospheric as it is emotionally claustrophobic.

The story follows Hugues Viane, a grieving widower who has moved to the somber, silent city of Bruges after the death of his beloved wife. For him, Bruges is not just a backdrop — it is a mirror of his sorrow, a city of still waters and dying bells, where time itself seems to have stopped in mourning. The emotional core of the novel lies in this fusion: Bruges becomes an extension of Hugues’ mind, a spectral city suspended between memory and death.

Hugues' mourning is not quiet acceptance, but a fixation bordering on madness. He preserves relics of his wife — most notably, a long lock of her golden hair — and seems to exist only to sustain her memory. His fragile reality is shaken when he encounters a woman who bears a striking resemblance to his deceased wife. Fascinated, he begins a relationship with her, not for who she is, but for who she reminds him of.

But this resemblance is only surface-deep. The woman, a stage performer, represents everything fleeting, sensual, and alive — the very opposite of the sanctified, idealized image Hugues holds of his wife. What begins as a kind of resurrection soon descends into obsession and disillusionment. When she ultimately attempts to steal from him — including the sacred lock of hair — Hugues reacts violently, strangling her with that very relic. In that moment, the symbolic and the literal collapse into one another: his grief, idealism, and rage manifest in a tragic reenactment of loss.

Rodenbach’s prose, rich and poetic, is steeped in the language of decay and silence. There is little dialogue; the novel is more interested in moods, echoes, and spiritual paralysis. His descriptions of Bruges are as vivid as any character — a city “dying of its past,” wrapped in fog, filled with bells that toll not for the living, but for memory itself.

The novel’s inclusion of photographs of Bruges (in early editions) adds another layer of eeriness and realism — a literal haunting of image and text. Even without them, Rodenbach's Bruges feels visually present, almost tactile.

Bruges-la-Morte is not a comforting read. It doesn’t offer catharsis, only a kind of circular descent into obsession. But for those drawn to the darker corners of the human psyche — and to the beauty found in decay — this novel is a quiet masterpiece. It captures a soul unraveling, slowly, beautifully, fatally.

D.O.A. (1950)

Among the most distinctive and gripping entries in classic film noir, D.O.A. (1950) stands out with a premise so bold and unforgettable, it could only come from the shadowy corners of noir imagination: a man walks into a police station to report a murder — his own.

Edmond O'Brien delivers a sweaty, desperate, and magnetic performance as Frank Bigelow, a seemingly ordinary accountant who learns he’s been fatally poisoned with a radioactive toxin. With only days to live, he races through city streets, nightclubs, and office buildings trying to answer the question: “Who killed me, and why?”

This inversion of the classic murder mystery — where the victim solves his own murder before he dies — gives the film a breathless, existential energy. The story unfolds in flashback, starting with one of the most iconic opening scenes in noir: Bigelow’s solitary march through the halls of a police station, asking to file a homicide report — his own.

Director Rudolph Maté, a former cinematographer, brings a sharp eye for shadows, angles, and tension. The visual style is classic noir: tilted frames, crowded nightscapes, faces half-drenched in darkness. The camera is as restless as the dying man it follows, amplifying the film’s sense of dread and doom.

While the dialogue leans into hard-boiled tradition, the real emotional core lies in the horror of having no time — of being trapped not just by the walls of a mystery, but by a ticking biological clock. Frank Bigelow is already dead. He’s just chasing the truth before it’s too late.

In many ways, D.O.A. is a metaphor for noir itself — a genre filled with doomed characters clinging to meaning in their final hours. There’s no redemption, only momentum. No comfort, only motion. The film is relentless, cynical, and fatalistic — and because of that, deeply unforgettable.

Night Has A Thousand Eyes (1948)

Among the many film adaptations of Cornell Woolrich’s fiction, few manage to capture the dark inevitability and quiet despair of his world as effectively as Night Has a Thousand Eyes. This 1948 noir gem is more than just a tale of clairvoyance — it’s a meditation on fate, fear, and the futility of resisting what lies ahead.

Edward G. Robinson gives a haunting performance as John Triton, a man cursed with the ability to foresee future tragedies — and powerless to prevent them. The story unfolds with creeping dread as Triton foresees the death of a young woman, a vision that casts a long, paralyzing shadow over the characters' lives.

That woman is played by the luminous Gail Russell, whose beauty and vulnerability make her fate all the more affecting. Russell’s presence in the film is ethereal, almost ghostlike — and tragically, her real life would mirror the sorrowful tones of the story. Plagued by intense stage fright, emotional distress, and alcoholism, Gail Russell died in 1961 at the age of just 36, found alone in her apartment surrounded by empty liquor bottles and sleeping pills. Her death, like Woolrich’s fiction, was wrapped in silence, sadness, and shadows.

The film's atmosphere — enhanced by shadowy cinematography, a foreboding score, and Farrow’s tight direction — serves not only as a chilling thriller but as a faithful translation of Woolrich’s noir universe, where the line between coincidence and destiny is thin, and where beauty is often the prelude to destruction.

Night Has a Thousand Eyes remains, arguably, the most emotionally resonant and stylistically accurate adaptation of Woolrich’s writing. It’s a film that lingers — not because of shock or spectacle, but because of the quiet tragedy it carries in every frame, both on and off the screen.

L.A. Confidential (1997)

Curtis Hanson’s L.A. Confidential is a masterclass in noir storytelling — sharp, stylish, and morally murky. Based on the acclaimed novel by James Ellroy, the film dives deep into the glitzy yet rotten heart of 1950s Los Angeles, peeling back the glossy surface of Hollywood glamour to expose a city dripping in vice, violence, and ambition.

The story follows three LAPD officers — the idealistic Ed Exley (Guy Pearce), the brutal Bud White (Russell Crowe), and the savvy Jack Vincennes (Kevin Spacey) — as they unravel a tangled web of murder, corruption, and media manipulation. What starts as a standard police procedural quickly spirals into something deeper: a meditation on power, identity, and justice in a world where everyone's wearing a mask.

The film's strength lies not only in its airtight script and labyrinthine plot but in its complex characters. Each man is flawed, each driven by ego, pain, or redemption. Their intersecting paths create a dynamic rhythm that builds steadily to a perfectly orchestrated climax.

Kim Basinger’s performance as Lynn Bracken — the Veronica Lake lookalike entangled in the scheme — adds an emotional counterweight. Her presence is both enigmatic and tragic, earning her a deserved Oscar win.

Technically, the film is stunning. Dante Spinotti’s cinematography captures the smoggy, sultry texture of post-war L.A., and Jerry Goldsmith’s jazzy score adds just the right amount of mood and menace.

Cornell Woolrich - Waltz Into Darkness

In the shadowy world of noir fiction, few novels strike as deeply as Waltz into Darkness. Cornell Woolrich, a master of dread and romantic doom, leads us through a slow, haunting descent into obsession, betrayal, and self-destruction.

Louis Durand, a lonely New Orleans banker, expects to marry a woman he’s never met — a hopeful escape from his solitary life. But when Julia arrives, she is not the woman from the letters. From that moment, their relationship becomes a dance — slow, intimate, and fatal.

Woolrich paints a world where nothing is certain. Is Julia sincere or a con artist? Is Louis naive, or willfully blind? The deeper they sink into each other, the more the lines blur between love and delusion.

The novel’s final act is both tragic and ambiguous. Louis suspects poison in the wine, yet he drinks. He chooses her, even knowing she may be the end of him. And Julia — does she love him at the end, or simply run out of lies?

Waltz into Darkness is noir at its most devastating: romantic, atmospheric, and laced with quiet madness. It’s about a love so absolute it becomes surrender — a death wish wrapped in silk.

Cornell Woolrich - The Black Curtain

The legendary crime fiction editor Otto Penzler has made the works of classic noir author Cornell Woolrich widely available at very affordable prices. One of these is The Black Curtain, a novel that starts off intriguing but soon turns into one of Woolrich's more stretched and logically questionable narratives.

The story follows a man named Frank Townsend, who suddenly regains consciousness in the middle of the street, only to realize he’s been suffering from amnesia for the past year. He has no memory of what happened during that time. Strangely enough, he returns to his wife and old job as if nothing ever happened — and here’s where the logical cracks begin to show.

Questions pile up: Why was his wife still waiting for him after a full year of unexplained absence? How did he just slide back into his job? I expected some kind of psychological help or a psychiatrist to step in — but that never happens.

Instead, we get a mysterious man tailing Townsend around the city. After a narrow escape and a break-in at his apartment, he and his wife flee. Townsend tells her to go to her mother while he tries to figure out what the hell happened during his “lost year.”

He ends up in a small town, hoping someone will recognize him. Eventually, a young woman named Ruth does. Through conversations with her, he learns — from a newspaper article — that during his amnesiac period he was apparently involved in a murder. A man was killed in the house where he worked under a different name. Ruth urges him to run, but he insists on proving his innocence.

They return to the house, where Ruth now works as a caretaker for the paralyzed grandfather of the murdered man. Also living there is a sick girl who never leaves her room. Townsend, now going by "Dan," hides in a storage room.

To keep things short: the widow of the murdered man, along with her brother, plan to set a trap and frame Dan and Ruth for a fake break-in gone wrong — a self-defense killing. The brother sends the widow to the police station to "report" the break-in in advance, planning to kill them before she returns.

But in a twist of poetic justice, the paralyzed grandfather, upon overhearing the plan, sets a fire. The smoke disables the would-be killer, police arrive just in time, and Townsend is saved. Tragically, Ruth is killed in the struggle. The widow is arrested, and in the end, Townsend returns to his wife.

Despite its many plot holes and coincidences, The Black Curtain is still a compelling read. It’s full of Woolrich’s signature mood: paranoia, dread, and dreamlike uncertainty. Still, I couldn’t help but feel like the author was working through his own issues — perhaps even alcohol-induced blackouts — and pouring them into the narrative.

It’s not his tightest work, but it’s classic Woolrich: messy, emotional, suspenseful, and strangely unforgettable. It was adapted into film noir Street Of Chance (1942) like many of Woolrich novels.

Harry Stephen Keeler - Riddle Of The Travelling Skull

 

Harry Stephen Keeler is a writer many mystery fans have never heard of — but once you step into his world, it’s hard to get out. Riddle of the Travelling Skull is one of his most famous (and most unhinged) novels, a book that reads like something Agatha Christie might’ve written... on LSD.

The story follows Calthorpe, who accidentally switches suitcases on a train trip to Chicago. Back home, he opens the suitcase only to find — a skull. Inside it: a bullet, mysterious papers, and clues that lead him down a bizarre investigation involving theft, murder, and deception.

We learn that a man named Phalmsey had stolen $20,000 from a gambler, and his friend Pelton — instead of reporting him — decided to kill him and take the money for himself. Things grow even more tangled when a man named Payne appears, demanding $20,000 in exchange for the skull, which could be used as evidence to send someone to prison for life.

During their conversation, Payne reveals that he is actually Phalmsey — he had foreseen Pelton’s murderous intent, jumped into a river, escaped to London, and found an almost identical skull to fake his own death and later blackmail Pelton for the stolen money.

But in the final twist, when Calthorpe lights a match in the darkness of the park, he sees that the man he's been speaking to isn’t Phalmsey — but his old friend, John Barr. What this means exactly remains unclear. The mystery is unresolved. The novel ends in a way that may seem either nonsensical or brilliant — depending on your patience and your tolerance for chaos.

To be honest, I was a bit disappointed by the ending. The final twist — where the mysterious blackmailer turns out to be John Barr, a relatively minor character — raises more questions than it answers. If it really was Barr, how could he have known all the intricate details about Phalmsey, Pelton, the stolen money, and the skull?

One might argue that Keeler was more interested in creating a dizzying narrative than in resolving it. The novel leaves you with the sense that the answer is just out of reach — or that maybe there was never meant to be one at all.

Still, the book is an experience. For readers who enjoy strange logic, relentless twists, and narratives that feel like dreams verging on nightmares, Riddle of the Travelling Skull offers a truly unique ride — even if it doesn’t quite take you to a clear destination.

Fredric Brown - Knock Three-One-Two

Fredric Brown (1906–1972) was an American writer known for his mastery of both science fiction and crime fiction, often blending the two genres with a sharp wit and surprising twists. His stories are typically concise, packed with suspense, dark humor, and clever plot turns that keep readers guessing until the last page.

Brown excelled in crafting short stories and novels that explore human psychology, moral ambiguity, and the unexpected consequences of seemingly simple actions. His work influenced many later writers in the thriller and mystery genres, and he is celebrated for his ability to combine entertainment with thoughtful reflection.

Whether in the realm of a chilling mystery or speculative science fiction, Fredric Brown’s storytelling remains engaging, unpredictable, and uniquely memorable.

Fredric Brown’s Knock Three-One-Two is a masterclass in noir storytelling — short, sharp, and deeply unsettling. With its grim moral landscape and ironic twists of fate, it offers not just suspense, but a disturbing psychological portrait of broken lives and failed ambitions.

The novel centers on Ray Fleck, a man in deep financial ruin, whose mounting gambling debts push him toward a horrifying plan: to manipulate an active serial killer into murdering his wife, Ruth, and collect her life insurance. To cover his tracks, Ray engineers a drunken arrest — getting himself locked up overnight so he’ll have an airtight alibi.

But the brilliance of Brown’s storytelling lies in how fate, madness, and irony collide.

Ray’s cellmate that night is a delusional racetrack tout, a man who has long insisted (falsely) that he is the one killing women around the city. He is unstable, obsessed with the idea of being taken seriously, but has never actually committed murder — until now. After waking from a vivid nightmare in which a demon taunts him, the man becomes fixated on Ray Fleck, recognizing him as the figure from the dream. This isn’t rational — it’s raw psychosis. To him, killing Ray becomes proof of his power, a way to make the demon go away, and to finally be seen as dangerous.

And so, Fleck — who thought he had planned the perfect crime — ends up the victim of a mind even more unhinged than his own schemes.

Meanwhile, Ruth, unaware of her husband's betrayal, is working her shift at a Greek restaurant. Her boss, Mikos, harbors quiet affection for her and becomes suspicious when a strange, unsettling phone call comes in asking for her. Trusting his gut, Mikos walks Ruth home, checks her apartment for danger, and leaves — but remains uneasy. When he sees a man lurking nearby who vaguely resembles Ray, he rushes back just in time to confront the real serial killer. After a violent struggle, he subdues the man and saves Ruth, who survives the attack with minor injuries.

The novel ends on a surprisingly tender note: Mikos writes a letter to a police inspector friend, recounting the strange chain of events, and expressing his hope to marry Ruth now that her treacherous husband is dead.

Brown wraps it all in his trademark style: compact prose, moral ambiguity, and a deep, noir-tinged sense of irony. Knock Three-One-Two isn’t just about crime — it’s about how delusion, desperation, and fate entangle until no one gets out clean. Even the "rescue" feels like chance, not justice.

Cornell Woolrich - Four Novellas Of Fear

This is good introduction to noir world of Cornell Woolrich, somewhat forgotten master of noir fiction and often dubbed as 'Poe of twentieth century'. Woolrich was a troubled man, deeply attached to his mother, closeted homosexual and his life is like some character from his fiction, full of doubt and sense of doom and he tragically ended life in seedy motel after his mother died, with untreated gangrene in his leg, so they had to amputate it. He was bound to a wheelchair (dark irony considering movie rear window based on his story), and he began to drink heavily after his mother passing.

Collected in this volume are four novellas : Eyes That Watch You, great starting point about paralyzed woman who suspects foul play against her son; The Night I Died; gripping story about man who fakes his suicide with an ironic twist at the end; You'll Never See Me Again, probably best story in collection  about wife of a husband who goes from him and in the end one more good story, Murder Always Gather Momentum about desperate man needing cash to pay debt for his flat and when he tries to take money from former employer things go wrong and he accidentally kills him with pistol, leading to further troubles and ending with another dark twist at the end.

French Crime Fiction - Claire Gorrara

Frustrated by the general dominance of English and American traditions in crime fiction, I picked up this volume focused on French crime fiction — part of a wider European series including entries on Germany and Italy. It turned out to be an insightful and rewarding read.

The book traces the evolution of the genre in France, beginning with the argument that France may have originated crime fiction itself, citing Vidocq — the real-life criminal-turned-detective who inspired Edgar Allan Poe’s foundational detective stories. From there, it explores a fascinating literary lineage including Fantômas, Arsène Lupin, Georges Simenon, Gaston Leroux, Jean-Patrick Manchette, Frédéric Dard, Fred Vargas, Léo Malet, and the often-overlooked but brilliant Sébastien Japrisot — whose The Sleeping Car Murders and One Deadly Summer stand as major achievements of psychological noir.

One of the most important cultural forces discussed is the Série Noire imprint by Gallimard, launched in 1945. This series not only translated American and British hardboiled fiction for French audiences (introducing figures like Jim Thompson, James M. Cain, and Chester Himes) but also provided a crucial platform for French authors to reinvent and shape the genre in their own voice. Writers like Manchette, Malet, and Japrisot crafted stories with existential themes, gritty realism, and political critique, giving birth to a distinctly French noir sensibility.

The book also touches on how French crime fiction expanded beyond novels into film and comics, reinforcing its cultural presence and giving it a unique visual and stylistic identity — think Rififi, Le Samouraï, or the Fantômas films.

Even if I was already familiar with many of the writers discussed, this book gave me a closer understanding of how they connect and differ from the Anglo-American crime canon. For anyone growing weary of the more formulaic aspects of British or American crime fiction, this is an excellent way to explore a darker, more cerebral, and stylistically bold tradition.

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Jim Thompson - A Hell Of A Woman

While many consider Hammett, Chandler, or even Horace McCoy as the titans of noir, I’d argue none of them reached the psychological depths Jim Thompson plumbs here. A Hell of a Woman isn’t about cool detectives or stylish grit—it’s about raw, unraveling desperation. Thompson doesn't just show a man breaking down; he invites us inside the break.

Jim Thompson’s A Hell of a Woman is a pitch-black plunge into the fractured psyche of a man spiraling out of control. Like much of Thompson’s work, this 1954 noir novel is less a crime story than a psychological case study—tense, paranoid, and brutally honest about the lies we tell ourselves to survive.

Frank “Dolly” Dillon, a low-level collections agent trapped in a loveless marriage and seething with quiet desperation, becomes ensnared in a scam that quickly mutates into something darker and bloodier. But what sets A Hell of a Woman apart isn’t just the plot—it's the way the narrative fractures alongside Frank’s mind. At times, Frank tells his story in his own anxious, bitter voice. At others, a detached, almost clinical tone takes over—as if a reporter or outsider is telling it instead. This jarring shift is no accident: it reflects Frank’s crumbling sense of identity and his increasingly tenuous grip on reality.

Thompson's brilliance lies in his ability to make the reader complicit. We follow Frank down his self-destructive path not because we agree with him, but because Thompson forces us to see through his eyes—then slyly reminds us we can't trust what we see.

By the final chapter, the line between fantasy and truth is so thoroughly blurred that the ending can be read multiple ways. Did Frank kill himself? Was it all a delusion? The ambiguity is the point. A Hell of a Woman doesn’t offer resolution—it offers a mirror to madness.

Bleak, sharp, and psychologically unsettling, this is classic Thompson: a noir novel where the most terrifying villain is the voice inside your own head.

Thompson’s stories often center on grifters, losers, sociopaths, and psychopaths—some on the fringe of society, others at its very core. His characters’ nihilistic worldview is best explored through first-person narratives, which offer a chillingly deep dive into the minds of the morally corrupted. There are few good guys in Thompson's literature—most characters are either abusive or merely biding their time until an opportunity presents itself. But even in his darkest characters, there are often glimpses of decency, making the line between good and evil blur even further.

Jim Thompson was relatively obscure when in mid 80's Black Lizard rediscovered him, but he was popular in France where film adaptation was made in 1979 called Serie Noire with Patrick Dewaere, some would say perfect casting for that role. 

Dorothy Salisbury Davis - A Death In The Life

Idle wife of absent newspaperman decide to roam free around the city and experience real life meeting prostitutes, pimps, and other scum, but when murder of famous actor shows up she takes a role of detective along with the police. Good crime novel, now a bit overlooked.

Ross Macdonald - Tom Nolan

This 400 pages biography of Ross Macdonald is very extensive and detailed story of famous writer life, from his childhood to old age and death. Author tell us how Ross was troubled kid, on a verge to become a criminal but when he discovered Hammett and Chandler he went to university and finished it, then tried his luck at writing detective novels. Although some chapters are little tedious (like when his new book comes out and then author list a handful of good reviews, and his generally ordinary life), for the most part is interesting, especially Macdonald love for the ocean, his relationship with fellow writer Margaret Millar, his troubled daughter and her long escape where he tracked her down through United States to her ultimate death at 31. It is  a bit sad that Macdonald got Alzheimer disease in his old age and quickly died. But for anyone seriously interested in crime fiction in general and for Macdonald fans, this is a must read book.

Dashiell Hammett - Man Of Mystery

This is informative book on Dashiell Hammett from Sally Cline. However frustrating it may have been because Hammett rarely spoke of himself and maintained personal life in the shadows, author give us a brief overview of his life, from his earlier days, struggling with writing until he became acclaimed crime novelist, his first marriage and second to Lillian Hellman, his involvement with communists, all tell us a story about complex man. Maybe most dashing parts were his perpetual illness and writers block, but with his four novells and collection of stories he is forever regarded as one of the greatest crime novelists of all time.

John Wainwright - All On A Summer's Day

Good police procedural, very realistic given that author was policeman before turning into crime fiction, very alike Ed McBain's novels. Plot revolves about different crimes occuring on a day's police work.

A Pin To See A Peepshow - F. Tennyson Jesse

A Pin to See a Peepshow by F. Tennyson Jesse is a chilling and thought-provoking novel based on true crime, weaving together a tragic tale of love, betrayal, and the dark consequences of desperation. Set against the backdrop of early 20th-century England, the story follows Julia, a woman trapped in a loveless marriage to Herbert. Her life takes a dramatic turn when she falls in love with Leo, leading to a passionate affair that ultimately results in Herbert's death after a confrontation between Leo and Herbert. The aftermath sets in motion a harrowing journey that culminates in Julia and Leo being arrested, tried, and eventually hanged.

The novel delves deep into Julia’s emotional turmoil as she grapples with the complexities of love, loyalty, and guilt. Her marriage to Herbert is strained from the start, with no affection between them, and her bond with Leo represents a desperate escape. However, the novel’s real tension builds as the relationship between Julia and Leo spirals into something far more dangerous when Herbert discovers their affair. The subsequent confrontation leads to Herbert’s death at Leo’s hands, setting in motion a series of events that ultimately end in their arrest and execution.

One of the most striking aspects of the novel is the portrayal of Julia’s feelings in the period leading up to her execution. As she faces the inevitable end of her life, there is a profound sense of internal conflict—her love for Leo, her guilt over Herbert’s death, and the overwhelming weight of her fate. Julia’s reflections are especially poignant as she contrasts her situation with the lives of "normal" people going about their everyday routines—people heading to jobs, living mundane lives. This thought brings a sense of surreal isolation and helplessness, as she contemplates how life simply moves on for others while hers is tragically coming to an end. Jesse captures Julia’s quiet desperation, fear, and reflection on her life choices in a way that is both heartbreaking and haunting.

While the novel is gripping, it is worth noting that at 400 pages, it may feel a bit long for some readers. There are sections that linger on Julia’s inner thoughts and emotions, which, while providing depth, may seem drawn-out at times. However, these moments contribute to the overall tone of the story, adding to the sense of suffocating inevitability that hangs over the characters.

The novel’s structure also reflects the societal attitudes of the time, making it a fascinating study of both the characters and the culture they inhabit. The ending, while tragic, feels inevitable, making it all the more impactful. It’s a story that lingers in your mind long after the final page, forcing you to reflect on love, consequences, and the fragility of life.

Overall, A Pin to See a Peepshow is a dark and captivating exploration of the human condition, set against the grim backdrop of a true crime. F. Tennyson Jesse’s writing captures the complexities of the heart and the destructive power of love in a way that resonates with readers who enjoy literary thrillers and psychological dramas. Though the novel’s tragic conclusion and its somewhat lengthy nature may leave you feeling conflicted, it is undoubtedly a story worth reading.

Patrick Hamilton - Hangover Square

Hangover Square is one of those novels that leaves you with a lingering sense of unease long after you’ve turned the last page. Written by Patrick Hamilton and first published in 1941, this dark and atmospheric work blends psychological tension with the gritty, post-Victorian streets of London. It’s a compelling piece of fiction that digs deep into the human psyche, making it a unique read for those who enjoy the darker side of crime fiction.

Plot Overview

At the heart of Hangover Square is George, a lonely and troubled man living in London in the years leading up to World War II. He’s not your typical protagonist: a deeply complex, often self-destructive figure, George battles internal demons, including a strained relationship with his own identity, alcoholism, and an obsession with a woman named Netta. His struggles create a gripping portrait of inner turmoil, a stark departure from the usual fast-paced plots of crime fiction.

The story is told with an unsettling intimacy, as we watch George’s downward spiral in his search for love, belonging, and escape. The novel shifts back and forth between George’s relatively peaceful moments and the manic, darker side of his mind, all while London itself looms as a backdrop—an ominous, almost hostile cityscape that reflects George's state of mind.

Psychological Depth and Atmosphere

What makes Hangover Square stand out, especially for crime fiction readers, is its psychological complexity. The novel may not fit neatly into the crime genre, but it shares similar themes of moral ambiguity, mental instability, and the darker undercurrents of human nature. George’s mind becomes both his prison and his battleground, and Hamilton’s writing pulls you into that turmoil, leaving you questioning the reliability of George’s perceptions. The novel’s slow burn of tension, the sense of inevitable tragedy, makes it feel almost like a psychological thriller rather than a traditional crime novel.

Hamilton’s portrayal of London in the 1930s is equally as bleak as George’s inner world. The atmosphere is heavy, and it often feels as though the city itself is a character, influencing the choices George makes. The novel’s pacing can feel slow at times, especially when Hamilton spends long stretches diving into George’s tortured thoughts, but it’s this very depth that creates a lasting impression of desperation and isolation.

Themes of Love, Obsession, and Self-Destruction

At its core, Hangover Square is a novel about obsession—specifically George’s obsessive and unhealthy fixation on Netta. This relationship is as toxic as it is compelling, making it one of the driving forces behind George’s descent into madness. For fans of crime fiction, this theme will resonate, as it mirrors the complex and often destructive dynamics we see in noir protagonists and their struggles with desire, self-worth, and moral conflict.

While the novel may not feature a conventional crime plot, it explores the crime of the human mind—how obsession, jealousy, and desperation can lead to irreversible consequences. The psychological toll George experiences, paired with his interactions with others, takes the reader into darker territory than a typical whodunit.

Final Thoughts

Hangover Square may not be for everyone, especially for readers who prefer fast-paced action or straightforward crime plots. The novel’s psychological intricacies and pacing require patience, but for those who appreciate a deep dive into the complexities of the human mind, it offers a uniquely haunting experience. The story’s exploration of mental illness, love, and obsession will appeal to fans of crime fiction who enjoy psychological tension as much as the more traditional aspects of the genre.

If you’re someone who appreciates the darker, more introspective side of crime stories and enjoys a slow-burning narrative, Hangover Square is definitely worth the read. It’s a reminder that sometimes the most chilling crimes happen not in the streets, but within the very minds of the people we least expect. Hamilton also wrote script for famous movie Gaslight.

Cameron McCabe - The Face On The Cutting Room Floor

This novel was quite a mystery back in the day, with uncertainty about its author. Julian Symons called it a detective story to end all detective stories. It revolves around film studio where girl has been killed in the cutting room floor. Cameron McCabe, narrator of the story, tells about possible suspects but when the film is showed there  is depiction of man and woman struggling and maybe in accident he kills herself with a knife. Jensen, the possible culprit is later found dead, poisoned and shot from revolver. Now Jensen was lover of the girl, but also was McCabe so inspector Smith puts the blame on Cameron and sends him to trial. After Cameron is aquitted, he returns home only to face Smith who murders him. Very unusual crime story, and final touch is imagined review of his work as afterword. But after 30 years real name of the writer is revealed : Ernest Borneman, german who worked in the film industry. He wrote couple of other novels and died from suicide at 79 year old. 

One of the standout aspects of Face on the Cutting Room Floor is its unconventional narrative structure. The novel opens with what seems like a straightforward story of a man working behind the scenes in the movie industry. However, as the story progresses, it becomes clear that the world McCabe is constructing is anything but simple. The blending of fact and fiction within the narrative is brilliantly executed, with a fictional "review" of the book included by an imaginary critic. This metatextual element adds an intriguing layer of complexity to the story.

The plot is full of twists and turns, with the protagonist being drawn into a murder mystery that seems to have connections to both his professional life and personal history. The slow unveiling of secrets keeps readers on their toes, making it a difficult book to put down.

The novel explores the nature of film, identity, and the construction of truth. The editor at the center of the story deals with film reels—cutting, splicing, and rearranging footage. In a similar way, the novel itself feels like it's being cut and reassembled, with reality constantly shifting under the reader's feet. McCabe also plays with themes of voyeurism, illusion, and the idea of perception versus reality.

The writing is sharp and clever, with a noir-ish tone that complements the dark, mysterious atmosphere. McCabe’s ability to create a sense of unease and uncertainty is one of the novel's strengths.

The characters are well-developed, especially the protagonist. His character is driven by a desire to uncover the truth, yet he is constantly forced to question what’s real and what’s been fabricated—both in the case he’s investigating and in his own life. The supporting characters, though not as fleshed out, still contribute to the overall sense of mystery.

In conclusion, Face on the Cutting Room Floor is a fascinating and thought-provoking read that plays with narrative structure, genre conventions, and the idea of truth in a world filled with illusion. The novel feels ahead of its time, foreshadowing many modern techniques used in contemporary storytelling. If you're a fan of mystery, film noir, and books that defy traditional narrative forms, McCabe's work is certainly worth exploring.

Picador Classics also include afterword where they put interview with Borneman, and some other info about him.

Automat

Frenk je u mladosti bio veliki ljubitelj umetnosti u svim njenim vidovima, i prošavši obuku za istoričara umetnosti proveo je neko vreme uživajući u remek delima, slikama, skulpturama i građevinama, međutim sada, u njegovim četrdesetim godinama završio je kao kustos u jednom muzeju u Beogradu, provodeći radne dane u tišini, gledajući kroz prozor, i ponekad (a to je bilo retko) upoznajući mladiće i devojke sa poznatim delima. Dani su mu prolazili u dosadi dok je brisao prašinu sa knjiga o istoriji umetnosti, osećajući kako se svet promenio u 21 veku do te mere da je nekad pomišljao da je umetnost mrtva, i da se nikad više neće vratiti. Pomalo neobično, ali nikako neshvatljivo u slobodnim časovima igrao je rulet u kazinu nedaleko od muzeja, i ubrzo je zavoleo tu igru, gledajući kako se loptica vrti u ruletu, posmatrajući je kao nekakvo živo umetničko delo. Mnogo novca je stekao igrajući rulet, ali ga je sreća napustila kada je pao u veliki dug izgubivši mnogo novca u nekoliko večeri.

Osećajući veliku krivicu i planirajući kako će sa svojom bednom platom kustosa u muzeju preživeti, ispijao je pivo u nekom lokalnom baru. Bilo je već kasno i ulica je bila pusta, dok su semafori besmisleno prelazili iz crvenog preko žutog i zelenog, u bar je ušao njegov stari drugar iz kockarskih dana, Majkl. 

Frenk ga pozdravi i ponudi ga pivom.

-Ćao, Frenk. Dugo je bilo otkad se nismo videli.

-Da. Frenk je već ispijao drugu čašu piva dok je Majkl počinjao svoju. Zapalivši cigaretu, Majkl ga upita:

-Nešto si mi napet, Frenk. Slobodno mi reci šta te muči.

Frenk je takođe zapalio cigaretu i zakašljavši se ispljunuo šlajm u papirnu maramicu. Barmen je tiho sedeo na kraju hodnika, čisteći sto.

-Majkl, upao sam u velike dugove. Zbog jebenog ruleta.

-Oh, tako mi je žao, Frenk. O kolikoj sumi pričaš?

-Velikoj. Čak i sa podizanjem kredita, ne znam kako ću ga vratiti.

Odjednom Frenk zaplače i obrli Majkla oko vrata. 

-Pomozi mi, molim te.

Majkl ga nežno odgurne od sebe i ponudi mu jedan bromazepam da se smiri. 

-Samo polako Frenk. Popij ovo, pomoći će ti.

Frenk popije bromazepam sa pivom i malo se opusti. Zapalio je još jednu cigaretu. 

-Mogu da ti pomognem Frenk, ali biće to malo ilegalno.

-O čemu se radi?

-Poznajem jednu bandu kradljivaca slika. Zainteresovani su za jednu sliku, pa pošto si ti kustos u muzeju, možda ti je pri ruci.

-O kojoj slici se radi?

-Automat od Edvarda Hopera.

Odjednom se u njegovoj glavi stvorila slika žene zaokupljene nečim kako sedi u kafeu. Osećao se udaljen od svega kao i ta slika dok je pripaljivao cigaretu.

-Da, posedujemo tu sliku. Koliko nude za nju?

-50 000 evra. Da li bi ti to pomoglo?

-Veoma.  

-Ok. Hoćeš li da se nađemo kod njih sutra, recimo u podne? Zapisaću ti adresu na parčetu papira. Fini su to momci.

Dok je Majkl zapisivao adresu Frenk se osećao sve udaljenijim od okoline, ali i osnažen ovom poslovnom ponudom. Majkl mu dade papirić i pozdravi ga. Platio je za pivo i izašao iz bara. Kiša je padala dok su semafori još uvek besciljno menjali boje iz crvenog preko zelenog do žutog i natrag. Frenk je osećao veliku krivicu zbog odluke koju je počinio, ali takođe i veiki predah. Dugo je razmišljao o svemu tome dok je izlazio iz kafića. Dok je prelazio ulicu pomislio je da još uvek može da odustane dok je policijski automobil išao njemu u susret. Vratio se kući, skinuo odeću i zaspao.

Ujutru se osećao posebno bedan i očajan. Svu tu lepotu, duhovnost, njegovu celu ličnost je bacio u vodu zbog para. Posle popijene kafe i cigarete obukao se i otišao na zakazano mesto. Ispred zgrade je bio parkiran veliki mercury cyclone. Bili su to fini ljudi, i tokom razgovora izmenio je nekoliko opservacija o degeneraciji savremenih slikara. Tu je bio i Majkl. Dogovarali su se kako da najbolje izvedu sliku iz galerije.

-Ima sporedni ulaz, tu možete doći kolima, dok ću vam ja spremiti sliku. I da, hoću pare unapred.

Kriminalci se nasmejaše na tu izjavu.

-Ok, dobićeš polovinu sada i polovinu kad nam daš sliku. Dali su mu štosove novčanica. Tu je sigurno bilo 25 000 evra, pomisli Frenk.

-Ne moraš da brojiš. Kad možemo da dođemo po sliku?

-Večeras pred zatvaranje, oko 7 uveče.

-Dobro. Donećemo i kopiju.

-Ok.

Tokom razgovora Frenk nije osetio da je bio duboko uvučen u kriminalni svet i kad se vratio na posao neprestano je gledao automat sliku i osećao veliku usamljenost, kao na toj slici. Takođe je postao i prilično paranoičan, svo vreme misleći da mu je policija za petama. Pare koje je dobio sakrio je između stranica svojih knjiga u njegovoj biblioteci. Primicalo se 7 sati uveče i Frenk oseti zvuk trube iz kola. Pogledavši kroz prozor video je crvenog mercury cyclone kako se približava parkingu. Polako je uzeo sliku i poneo je sa sobom do sporednog izlaza. Osim automobila nije bilo nikog na ulici. Preko puta je bio parkiran crveni plymouth road runner. Iz auta je izašao mladić sa kopijom slike i torbom sa parama. Bez reči su razmenili robu. Frenk je neko vreme stajao na pločniku dok se mercury nije udaljio, i ostavio ga samog pred ulazom, samog sa svojim mislima punim izmešanih osećanja, krivice, straha, bola, zadovoljstva...vratio se u muzej i pažljivo postavio kopiju. Zaključavši vrata muzeja otišao je sa torbom punom para do svog stana gde je prilično brzo zaspao, svo vreme misleći da je ovo ružan san.

Forenzičarka Tea je bila veliki ljubitelj umetnosti tako da je jednog dana otišla do muzeja gde je Frenk upoznao sa poznatim delima. Tea pogleda Falsifikat Automata i neki čudni osećaj je obuzme. Posle nekog vremena izašla je iz galerije i otišla do policijse stanice. Tamo su u kancelariji detektiv i Nataša pisali izveštaje dok je mačak Fric jeo mačju travicu.

-Ćao, Tea. Imaš nešto da nam kažeš? Jesi li dobila neki dokaz od mrtvog tela?

-Pa bila sam malopre u muzeju i slika automat od edvarda hopera mi se učinila nekako drugačijom.

-Ko je Edvard Hoper?, upita detektiv.

-I ja se to pitam, odgovori Nataša.

-Čuveni slikar, reče Tea. -Ali razumljivo je da vi ništa ne znate o umetnosti. Možda ako bih našla nekog eksperta da vidi da li je original ili je bila krađa...

-Pitaj Čeda Pitersona, on zna puno umetnika.

-Ok.

Tea se odveze do kancelarije Čeda Pitersona, privatnog detektiva. Nešto je crtao kad je pokucala na vrata.

-Uđite, reče Čed Piterson pitajući se ko bi to mogao biti u ovom kišnom i hladnom danu. Iznenadio se kad je primetio Teu.

-Ćao, Čede. Treba mi tvoja pomoć. Bila sam u nekom muzeju i slika automat mi se činila nekako izmenjena kao da je u pitanju falsifikat.

Čed Piterson zapali cigaretu. 

-Moguće je da je bila krađa. Mogu da pošaljem stručnog eksperta da pobliže pogleda tu sliku, a znam i jednog tipa koji mi je učinio uslugu, upoznat je sa svetom kradljivaca slika.

-Hvala ti.

Ubrzo je ekspert došao do muzeja gde ga je Frenk uveo. Tu su bili i detektiv i Nataša, Tea, i Čed Piterson. Staviviši pozlaćeni okvir ispred očiju, pobliže je pogledao sliku i posle detaljnog gledanja utvrdio da je falsifikat.

-Ovo je sigurno falsifikat. Znate li kako je dospeo ovde?, upita Frenka.

-Nemam pojma, reče Frenk.

-Molim vas da ostanete u muzeju dok ne rešimo ovo pitanje. Sa vama će biti policajac.

-Dobro. 

Frenk je drhtao od straha. Proklet bio dan kad je u taj bar ušao Majkl.

Čed Piterson je pozvao u pomoć jednog bivšeg kriminalca koji mu je rekao o aktivnoj bandi kradljivaca slika. Uz njegovu pomoć Nataša se kamuflirala u preprodavca umetničkih dela i odvezla se plymouth acapulco do njihove jazbine. Neko vreme su pričali dok Nataša nije izvadila pištolj i rekla : Policija! Stojte tu gde ste! Sve što kažete može biti iskorišćeno protiv vas, imate pravo na advokata i pravo na ćutanje! 

Izvela je kriminalce i ubacila ih u plymouth acapulco za čijim volanom je sedeo detektiv. Posle mnogo ispitivanja u policijskoj stanici doznali su sve pojedinosti.

Frenk je osećao kako se obruč oko njega sužava kada su detektiv i Nataša došli kod njega da ga uhapse. Pobegao je u drugu sobu i skočio kroz prozor, i njegova zadnja sećanja su bila letovanje u italiji gde je razgledao biste romanskih imperatora...