First published in 1954, when at is peak (his third novel), this is something of a departure in style for Wright, in that it is a psycholigical noir-style thriller with an almost entirely white cast. Set on the affluent streets of the Upper East Side Manhattan it concerns the morose and obnoxious character of Erskine Fowler, who at 43 has just been pensioned off from a wealthy insurance company. His bizarre weekend that follows is calamitous and tragic. The atmosphere is Hitchcockian, and the style is typical 1950s US noir; Thompson / Highsmith / Goodis / Willeford / Himes.

Wright was well aware his publishers may not be in favour of him switching genres – they (Harper) rejected it outright, and it was published by Avon. Consequently there were no reviews in the US for more than a year. He said in a radio interview at the time,

“In this novel I have attempted to deal with what I consider the most important problem white people have, their moral dilemma. This is why I have chosen this white New Yorker as a protagonist.”

It works on a number of levels; to understand Wright’s experiment, his commentary on wealthy white America, or perhaps best, just as a more than decent dark thriller – we’re familiar with that naked-in-public nightmare, but here there is no waking up; Erskine’s nightmare is real and its reality, spine-chilling.

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supera superiora sequi

SafeReturnDoubtful is my alias.


Where is Andy?

Shap, Cumbria circa 2016 – Tia, Roja and Mac behind

I was so much older then…

Dartmoor 2019


Quote of the Week

Alice asked the Cheshire Cat, who was sitting in a tree, ‘What road do I take?’ The cat asked, ‘Where do you want to go?’ ‘I don’t know,’ Alice answered. ‘Then,’ said the cat, ‘it really doesn’t matter, does it?’


Lewis Carroll