Average Reviews:
(More customer reviews)When my step-son Cody gave me this book in way of apologizing for what he did to my lawn (don't get me started), i was hesitant to believe that I would enjoy it. As a life-long Richmonder, I didnt believe that this town had anything in it worth writing about. I WAS WRONG. The stories contained within this volume are great, grimy gems that illuminate the under-side of this town with what my Uncle Otis used to call 'real panache.'
Actually, Uncle Otis would have loved some of the stories in this collection. He was a big reader. Used to scream about religion a lot, but mostly he liked reading.
Back to the book--what really makes the stories shine is that they're more than just blood and guts like your Jodi Picoults and Andre Dubus'. There's a depth to the material here. Not that they're not fun, too. Many of the stories contain both sexuality and violence.
It's a great collection put together by people as passionate about literature as they are about noir. I assume. These stories pack a lunch, and in that lunch they pack punches instead of chips.
As for Cody, if you see him, please tell him its safe to come on home. I liked the book enough that I've decided to let the lawn thing go.
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The River City emerges as a hot spot for unseemly noir.
Brand-new stories by: Dean King, Laura Browder, Howard Owen, Yazmina Beverly, Tom De Haven, X.C. Atkins, Meagan J. Saunders, Anne Thomas Soffee, Clint McCown, Conrad Ashley Persons, Clay McLeod Chapman, Pir Rothenberg, David L. Robbins, Hermine Pinson, and Dennis Danvers.
FROM THE INTRODUCTION TO RICHMOND NOIR:
"In The Air-Conditioned Nightmare, Henry Miller tosses off a hard-bitten assessment of the City on the James: 'I would rather die in Richmond somehow,' he writes, 'though God knows Richmond has little enough to offer.' As editors, we like the dying part, and might point out that in its long history, Richmond, Virginia has offered up many of the disparate elements crucial to meaty noir. The city was born amid deception, conspiracy, and violence . . .
"These days, Richmond is a city of winter balls and garden parties on soft summer evenings, a city of private clubs where white-haired old gentlemen, with their martinis or mint juleps in hand, still genuflect in front of portraits of Robert E. Lee. It's also a city of brutal crime scenes and drug corners and okay-everybody-go-on-home-there's-nothing-more-to-see. It's a city of world-class ad agencies and law firms, a city of the FFV (First Families of Virginia) and a city of immigrants--from India, Vietnam, and Africa to Massachusetts, New York, and New Jersey. It's a city of finicky manners (you mustn't ever sneeze publicly in Richmond) and old-time neighborliness, and it's a city where you think twice about giving somebody the finger if they cut you off on the Powhite Parkway (that's pronounced Pow-hite, not Po-white, thank you very much) because you might get your head blown off by the shotgun on the rack . . ."
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