Not good, but weird--which is its own kind of good, I guess.
Lingeman is writing about that forgotten period of American life, the transition from World War II to the Cold War. Americans are notoriously unable to deal with death, and this was a period when the nation had to grapple with death; it was done poorly and, unsurprisingly, has been disappeared down the memory hole. In our cultural memory, there is a jump-cut from VJ Day to Leave it t Beaver. The book wants to excavate this period, dig it up and look at it, consider it.
The controlling metaphor, as the title suggests, is film noir. Lingeman thinks it is a key to the period: the era's unacknowledged emotions channeled into it, away from wartime stories, which were mostly sentimental and propagandistic. Here was existentialism, death, and raw emotion. These were felt on the battlefield, too, of course, but were otherwise considered inadmissible on the domestic side.
The heroes in the account are the non-communistic liberals and dissenters from the mainstream. The villains are most of the politicians and business leaders, who headed off the potentially radical movements, killing them by strangling the New Deal, preparing America for war, shutting down the labor movement, and labeling anyone who did not agree with them as communists. This set the stage for the more stultifying 1950s, as dissent dried up or went underground.
All of which is fine. For all that Lingeman focuses on a usually ignored period, he doesn't really break new ground. This is a tertiary source. I was going to say a serviceable one, but it's not really that.
Unsurprisingly, given his protagonists and antagonists, Lingeman has written for "The Nation" (and this book is put out by its publishing arm.) It's clear that he is more comfortable dealing in short works, and the structure here gets hazy above the level of section--what demarcates one chapter from another, indeed what unites all of the sections into a single chapter, is never quite clear. The book takes on the burden of making several arguments, and none of them quite gel: one is the political description of the period; another is the importance of noir film; a third is the parallel between noir film and the period.
The book also serves as a kind of memoir, with Lingeman describing his own connection to the period in the introduction, conclusion, as well as here and there through the narrative. There is a lot of repetition, the author introducing the same movies and characters repeatedly, often in the same chapter, occasionally in the course of a few pages. The book could easily have been pared down by half, without any loss.
All of which means it's a bit of a mess, not quite history as memoir or memoir as history.
But for someone looking to investigate beyond the tired bromides of "The Greatest Generation" claptrap and willing to sink into the sections without thinking too hard about how the whole book fits together, it's worth a read.