[7/10]
"There are eight million stories in the naked city. This has been one of them."
The quote is from a 1948 film noir set in New York city. I don’t really remember all the plot details, but I do remember the way the city is made an integral part of the story.
Colin Harrison’s 1996 novel sent me right back to those classic scenes filmed on location in New York. Harrison has managed here to both pay tribute to the original noir ethos and to bring his own story into the modern age.
The voice-over commentary from the main character, a sleazy journalist turned private investigator, helped me get into the right mood for this twisted tale of corruption, power games, sexual exploitation, betrayals and dark secrets that poison the lives of the innocent.
[as an unexpected bonus for the 2023 reader, over the proceedings hangs the threat of Rudy Giuliani from the time he was the most feared attorney in the city, before becoming the sorry clown he is today]
In the words of that old drunk reporter I once knew, it’s all one story
This is a statement from Porter Wren, investigative reporter and popular columnist at one of the city’s tabloids, the one that reminded me of ‘The Naked City’. Porter, a farmer boy from Midwest, has become a cynic after witnessing the worse humanity has to offer in nightly crime reports where he mines the data for one more sob story, for one more special angle to turn into something his readership can feel good or angry about.
Porter Wren is on the beat every day, feeling dirty and cheap, selling his empathy in order to put food on the table for his wife and kids. His column is celebrated from the highest to the lowest nooks in town, yet he feels dirty, a sellout. He is also threatened by the new journalism at the dawn of the internet era.
They expect a commodity of cheap ink and cheap sensation, and they get it.
I actually finished the story a couple of months ago, and I struggle a little to remember all the details of the intricate plot, but most of my notes are about these sort of remarks from Porter Wren. For me, pulp fiction succeeds or not on the strength of the voice who takes us down the mean streets and less on the actual plot. Colin Harrison is a new author for me, but I liked what he did here, using stock characters and situations, yet managing the atmosphere and the genre conventions like a pro.
How could I believe that what I did had any importance? No one really learned anything, no one was wiser, no one was saved. Do newspapers even matter anymore?
... we live in a time in which all horror has been commodified into entertainment.
>>><<<>>><<<
I got another crazy story for you, pal. See if you believe this one.
The actual story here? Porter Wren is seduced at a publisher’s party by a femme fatale, a beautiful widow who wants him to investigate the murder of her husband, a very promising independent movie director, who probably stepped on the wrong toes with his penchant for provocative interviews and for filming with a hidden camera. Hundreds of his private tapes are stored in bank vault, and one of them has led to murder. It’s the one that is missing, of course.
“Just remember that Simon was very, very unhappy all his life and that he was always searching for something, for true life, he wanted to capture truth.”
The investigation leads Porter to construction sites, to retirement homes, to investment banks, to artists studios, to adultery and even to blackmail from his boss, the press magnate, who is himself threatened by one of those secret video tapes.
Porter Wren must find the tapes and the blackmailer before his own sins catch up with him and destroy his family.
This is why people exchange stories. They want to be known. The story is a kind of currency. If you give one, you usually get one back.
The ace in the hole for our investigative journalist and amateur gumshoe is his talent for making people tell their stories, his empathy and his long years of experience dealing with the underworld.
I might have some questions about plot holes and some poorly argued decisions that seem taken more for plot convenience than for credibility: an important piece of evidence is not duplicated and/or put in a safe location, a key witness is not contacted until the case is practically solved, etc.
Yet the mood was set right, missing only the cool jazz soundtrack to put me right in the middle of the action [like that old black & white TV series Johnny Staccato]. The word ‘nocturne’ in the title is well chosen, and my final two quotes are both related to the night life of the Big Apple:
“What’s going on?” I said.
“Burning building in Harlem, one alarm, lady says her grilled-cheese sandwich caught on fire.” His voice was flat. “Man left a snake on a bus outside St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Cop shot in the leg in the Bronx. Several Nubians arrested on suspicion of being suspicious. Let’s see – two guys from New Jersey jumped two guys in the Village, called them fags, the gay guys beat the shit out of them. Also, we got a girl in a nursing home who has been in a coma for twenty years who is pregnant.”
... no wonder Porter Wren turned into a cynic.
In the streets at night, everything kept hidden comes forth, everyone is subject to the rules of chance, everyone is potentially both murderer and victim, everyone is afraid, just as anyone who sets his or her mind to it can inspire fear in others. At night, everyone is naked. [from Luc Sante - Low Life, quoted by Harrison in the afterword]
... and with this we come right back were we started, with the naked city!
I hope I have piqued your interest for both the classic movie and for this modern noir novel.