13 French Street by Gil Brewer

American Pulp Fiction – Published 1951

50s noir stands apart from other periods because of the compelling plots, and those plots alone, uncomplicated by tangents, deviations and sub-plots. They are often short and direct, to be read in a couple of sittings. This is a good example.

Brewer’s style in particular is blunt and to the point, without witty metaphors and euphemistic language; just the narrator telling his story. This was his second novel, and the bestselling of all (I think about 40 in total). He had more misses than hits, and often those misses included sleazy sex and women as weak characters.

But this certainly doesn’t.

The narrator is Alex Bland, an ordinary guy, an archeologist who visits his old army buddy Verne Lawrence. Verne is married to beautiful Petra, who has been corresponding with Alex about Verne’s health, and has already formed a friendship with him, at least in Alex’s mind.
There’s a slowish first half, but that works well as it builds the tension, then midway though blackmail and murder accelerate the pace dramatically.

It’s a fierce description of sexual obsession that must have shocked the readers of the day. And a suitably distressing finale that leaves the reader feeling contrite for having enjoyed something so bleak.

My GoodReads score 4 / 5

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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