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The Rip-Off
In his characteristic style, Jim Thompson creates a world in which nothing is as it seems. With her stunning beauty and overwhelming charm, Manuela Aloe seemed like perfect girlfriend material, but when many strange things occur, Britt Rainstar begins to have second thoughts about his angelic--or demonic--love. If he can survive the attacks of a devil-possessed dog, a trigger-happy skeleton, and a mystery person who pushes his wheelchair down the stairs, then maybe Britt can escape Manuela and the evil that followers her.
224 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1989
22 people are currently reading
1069 people want to read
About the author
Jim Thompson
160 books1,640 followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author in the GoodReads database with this name. See this thread for more information.
James Myers Thompson was a United States writer of novels, short stories and screenplays, largely in the hardboiled style of crime fiction.
Thompson wrote more than thirty novels, the majority of which were original paperback publications by pulp fiction houses, from the late-1940s through mid-1950s. Despite some positive critical notice, notably by Anthony Boucher in the New York Times, he was little-recognized in his lifetime. Only after death did Thompson's literary stature grow, when in the late 1980s, several novels were re-published in the Black Lizard series of re-discovered crime fiction.
Thompson's writing culminated in a few of his best-regarded works: The Killer Inside Me, Savage Night, A Hell of a Woman and Pop. 1280. In these works, Thompson turned the derided pulp genre into literature and art, featuring unreliable narrators, odd structure, and surrealism.
The writer R.V. Cassills has suggested that of all pulp fiction, Thompson's was the rawest and most harrowing; that neither Dashiell Hammett nor Raymond Chandler nor even Horace McCoy, author of the bleak They Shoot Horses, Don't They?, ever "wrote a book within miles of Thompson". Similarly, in the introduction to Now and on Earth, Stephen King says he most admires Thompson's work because "The guy was over the top. The guy was absolutely over the top. Big Jim didn't know the meaning of the word stop. There are three brave lets inherent in the forgoing: he let himself see everything, he let himself write it down, then he let himself publish it."
Thompson admired Fyodor Dostoevsky and was nicknamed "Dimestore Dostoevsky" by writer Geoffrey O'Brien. Film director Stephen Frears, who directed an adaptation of Thompson's The Grifters as 1990's The Grifters, also identified elements of Greek tragedy in his themes.
James Myers Thompson was a United States writer of novels, short stories and screenplays, largely in the hardboiled style of crime fiction.
Thompson wrote more than thirty novels, the majority of which were original paperback publications by pulp fiction houses, from the late-1940s through mid-1950s. Despite some positive critical notice, notably by Anthony Boucher in the New York Times, he was little-recognized in his lifetime. Only after death did Thompson's literary stature grow, when in the late 1980s, several novels were re-published in the Black Lizard series of re-discovered crime fiction.
Thompson's writing culminated in a few of his best-regarded works: The Killer Inside Me, Savage Night, A Hell of a Woman and Pop. 1280. In these works, Thompson turned the derided pulp genre into literature and art, featuring unreliable narrators, odd structure, and surrealism.
The writer R.V. Cassills has suggested that of all pulp fiction, Thompson's was the rawest and most harrowing; that neither Dashiell Hammett nor Raymond Chandler nor even Horace McCoy, author of the bleak They Shoot Horses, Don't They?, ever "wrote a book within miles of Thompson". Similarly, in the introduction to Now and on Earth, Stephen King says he most admires Thompson's work because "The guy was over the top. The guy was absolutely over the top. Big Jim didn't know the meaning of the word stop. There are three brave lets inherent in the forgoing: he let himself see everything, he let himself write it down, then he let himself publish it."
Thompson admired Fyodor Dostoevsky and was nicknamed "Dimestore Dostoevsky" by writer Geoffrey O'Brien. Film director Stephen Frears, who directed an adaptation of Thompson's The Grifters as 1990's The Grifters, also identified elements of Greek tragedy in his themes.
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April 15, 2021
The Rip-Off by Jim Thompson tops the list as the pulpiest pulp fiction novel ever written. You want rock 'em sock 'em action? You want crisp dialogue that crackles and pops? Here you go in spades, baby.
Jim Thompson hits his main character Britton Rainstar with so many problems, dilemmas, challenges and conflicts, it's as if the author wanted to push the boundaries of crime noir to the point of goofiness, just to see how much he could get away with.
Listening to the audio book, I had the distinct feeling Jim Thompson shoved the Rip-Off manuscript in his bottom drawer and intended it to stay there. Thompson died in 1967 and Rip-Off didn't see the light of publication until 1989, twenty-two years after Jim's death. Did someone controlling the Thompson estate want to cash in on another Jim Thompson novel? I wouldn't be shocked - the lure of money can be so tempting.
I wonder if Jim Thompson laughed out loud while working on Rip-Off. Many the time I myself laughed at all the silliness. However, In a backhanded way, I'm glad I did listen - Jim Thompson's bleak nihilism rumbles forth and the tale does pack wads of kooky, fast-paced, pulpy punch.
Will Brit Rainstar survive the snarling attack dog at the side of his bed, or three different women who appear to be out to kill him, or the skeleton in his backyard chasing him with a gun? Take a break from more serious reading to rip-off this Jim Thompson black sheep.
American crime novelist Jim Thompson, 1906-1977
September 11, 2013
[5/10]
Everything all right, Britt?
Absolutely perfect, I said bitterly. How else could it be for a guy with a schizoid wife, and a paranoid girlfriend? If one of them can't send me to prison or the electric chair, the other will put me in the nuthouse or the morgue!
Britton Rainstar is in a fine mess, but frankly no more than he deserves. Heir to a famous Native American name, son of a university professor hunted by the McCarthysts, owner of a once luxurious, now dillapidated mansion, he is out of work, pennyless and mixed in some seriously unhealthy love affairs.
No one wants trouble, dammitt, but you don't avoid it by turning your back on it. The more you run, the more you have chasing you, scolds detective Claggett, possibly the only person who isn't trying to profit from Britton Rainstar's weaknesses. The bank repossessed his car, the insurance company is burying him in late payment charges and penalities, the city council put a garbage dump on his property, his wife might press murder charges on him if he stops sending her blood money and his new girfriend just set a killer doberman on him in an access of jealousy.
Britt response to all these troubles? Absolutely nothing. He puts his head in the sand, crosses his arms and waits for the the issue to go away. The author explains his atitude as protective camouflage, as an intelligent man hiding his talents in order to avoid notice and to stay out of trouble, but I was unconvinced, and for a novel presented in the first person, this lack of enthusiasm for the main narrator has a major negative impact on my overall rating. I also found the prose generally lacklustre and too liberal with the swear words, but that may be an aftereffect of my annoyance with Britt's passivity. ( Any damage you do, I imagine, is the result of not doing; just letting things slide. You don't have the initiative to deliberately hurt anyone. says the same Claggett). Britt is goofy where I was expecting a tragic victim of persecution, and maybe a better way to enjoy the novel is to look at it as an example of screwball comedy instead of existentialist noir. The final confrontation between the cowardly and clueless Britt and his tormentors sure qualifies as hilarious. If that was the intention of the author, than my rating is too low. If I was meant to take things seriously, my rating is too high.
Still, I want to give Jim Thompson another chance, and for that I would go for his highest rated novel here: The Killer Inside Me.
Everything all right, Britt?
Absolutely perfect, I said bitterly. How else could it be for a guy with a schizoid wife, and a paranoid girlfriend? If one of them can't send me to prison or the electric chair, the other will put me in the nuthouse or the morgue!
Britton Rainstar is in a fine mess, but frankly no more than he deserves. Heir to a famous Native American name, son of a university professor hunted by the McCarthysts, owner of a once luxurious, now dillapidated mansion, he is out of work, pennyless and mixed in some seriously unhealthy love affairs.
No one wants trouble, dammitt, but you don't avoid it by turning your back on it. The more you run, the more you have chasing you, scolds detective Claggett, possibly the only person who isn't trying to profit from Britton Rainstar's weaknesses. The bank repossessed his car, the insurance company is burying him in late payment charges and penalities, the city council put a garbage dump on his property, his wife might press murder charges on him if he stops sending her blood money and his new girfriend just set a killer doberman on him in an access of jealousy.
Britt response to all these troubles? Absolutely nothing. He puts his head in the sand, crosses his arms and waits for the the issue to go away. The author explains his atitude as protective camouflage, as an intelligent man hiding his talents in order to avoid notice and to stay out of trouble, but I was unconvinced, and for a novel presented in the first person, this lack of enthusiasm for the main narrator has a major negative impact on my overall rating. I also found the prose generally lacklustre and too liberal with the swear words, but that may be an aftereffect of my annoyance with Britt's passivity. ( Any damage you do, I imagine, is the result of not doing; just letting things slide. You don't have the initiative to deliberately hurt anyone. says the same Claggett). Britt is goofy where I was expecting a tragic victim of persecution, and maybe a better way to enjoy the novel is to look at it as an example of screwball comedy instead of existentialist noir. The final confrontation between the cowardly and clueless Britt and his tormentors sure qualifies as hilarious. If that was the intention of the author, than my rating is too low. If I was meant to take things seriously, my rating is too high.
Still, I want to give Jim Thompson another chance, and for that I would go for his highest rated novel here: The Killer Inside Me.
February 13, 2024
The Rip-Off is something not everyone will grok. The thing to remember with Thompson is he delights in people having inner and outer lives that are rather disconnected. His narrators are almost always unreliable, but nevertheless always ever so slightly twisted. You might conclude after reading this that the narrator was more than a little off his rocker (or possibly that the author was) (or the reader).
Britt Rainstar is the erstwhile narrator. He, who lives in what is left of the Rainstar mansion next to the town dump, a mansion that truth be told has seen many better days. He is besieged by bill collectors. Rainstar has no decent occupation. And, he is quite separated from his maimed and crippled wife Constance. A crippling that she blames him for and threatens to bring him to court if he doesn't pay her monthly blackmail. Again, Rainstar might perhaps shoulder some of the blame as he threw open the door, splitting her face and skull, and then, rather than be blamed as there was no good excuse, put her in a fast car and sent it over a cliff, hoping that would be the end of everything. Oh, but it wasn't, not by a long shot. And, now, like other ex-wives or those who should be ex-wives, she is unwilling to give a divorce. She prefers torment and monthly checks. After all, who wouldn't? I mean, it's not his fault, she had life insurance and he was basically uninsurable.
His girlfriend now is Manuela Aloe, an-almost midget not quite five feet tall, but with exceedingly curved and burgeoned extravagantly and deliciously lush flesh, a "tiny immensity," but "the breathtaking miracle of her body." For some reason, Manuela needs help boosting up to sinks in order to piss. Go figure! Her prior husband died suddenly and little more is she wiling to say about it.
Now, Manuela claims she bears Rainstar no ill will for his continuing marriage to Constance, but things keep happening like the giant dog in the motel room threatening to rend parts of Rainstar apart as soon as Manuela leaves. Like gunshots ringing out in the afternoon when he walks her to her car. Like the bartender who throws drinks in his face. Like the wheelchair that all on its own suddenly pitches ahead downhill. Or the restaurant tab she leaves him with, as the waiter tells him to pay his check or we'll drag you back in the kitchen and beat the crap out of you. None of this could be Manuela's fault, but then again you are not paranoid if someone is really trying to get you, are you? But what is he going to do when it is Manuela's foundation that is paying him for writing public service pamphlets?
About the only sane person in the novel is Detective Sergeant Jeff Clagett who apparently has nothing to do with his time but offer twenty-four hour protection to Rainstar. Sometimes that comes in the form of a redheaded nurse who likes to give spongebaths.
Even for Thompson, this is a bit twisted, but perhaps that is the whole point. You are only hearing it all from Rainstar's point of view and, for all you know, he could be dictating this whole shebang while ensconced in a sanitarium.
Britt Rainstar is the erstwhile narrator. He, who lives in what is left of the Rainstar mansion next to the town dump, a mansion that truth be told has seen many better days. He is besieged by bill collectors. Rainstar has no decent occupation. And, he is quite separated from his maimed and crippled wife Constance. A crippling that she blames him for and threatens to bring him to court if he doesn't pay her monthly blackmail. Again, Rainstar might perhaps shoulder some of the blame as he threw open the door, splitting her face and skull, and then, rather than be blamed as there was no good excuse, put her in a fast car and sent it over a cliff, hoping that would be the end of everything. Oh, but it wasn't, not by a long shot. And, now, like other ex-wives or those who should be ex-wives, she is unwilling to give a divorce. She prefers torment and monthly checks. After all, who wouldn't? I mean, it's not his fault, she had life insurance and he was basically uninsurable.
His girlfriend now is Manuela Aloe, an-almost midget not quite five feet tall, but with exceedingly curved and burgeoned extravagantly and deliciously lush flesh, a "tiny immensity," but "the breathtaking miracle of her body." For some reason, Manuela needs help boosting up to sinks in order to piss. Go figure! Her prior husband died suddenly and little more is she wiling to say about it.
Now, Manuela claims she bears Rainstar no ill will for his continuing marriage to Constance, but things keep happening like the giant dog in the motel room threatening to rend parts of Rainstar apart as soon as Manuela leaves. Like gunshots ringing out in the afternoon when he walks her to her car. Like the bartender who throws drinks in his face. Like the wheelchair that all on its own suddenly pitches ahead downhill. Or the restaurant tab she leaves him with, as the waiter tells him to pay his check or we'll drag you back in the kitchen and beat the crap out of you. None of this could be Manuela's fault, but then again you are not paranoid if someone is really trying to get you, are you? But what is he going to do when it is Manuela's foundation that is paying him for writing public service pamphlets?
About the only sane person in the novel is Detective Sergeant Jeff Clagett who apparently has nothing to do with his time but offer twenty-four hour protection to Rainstar. Sometimes that comes in the form of a redheaded nurse who likes to give spongebaths.
Even for Thompson, this is a bit twisted, but perhaps that is the whole point. You are only hearing it all from Rainstar's point of view and, for all you know, he could be dictating this whole shebang while ensconced in a sanitarium.
December 31, 2013
I was hesitant about reading The Rip Off because of everyone on here claiming how much it sucked. Well, after reading it I can definitely say it is only they who are doing the sucking.
This book cracked me up! I had to do a fake cough several times to cover up my laughter. Thompson knows how to write dialogue. It's witty, original, and occasionally outrageous. Likewise is the cast of desperate characters who are big enough to speak them.
The biggest gripe against this book is that it's lacking the blood and guts violence from his other novels. Ok, that I will give to you. There isn't very much violence, it's more of a flirtation with disaster. It's refreshing to see Thompson write a hard-boiled comedy without dumping a bucket of blood on top.
The plot is a little so-so, but as Stephen King says about plot: "The good writer's last resort and the dullard's first choice." What makes this book shine are the character interactions and risky situations.
Good pulp doesn't have to be all gore.
This book cracked me up! I had to do a fake cough several times to cover up my laughter. Thompson knows how to write dialogue. It's witty, original, and occasionally outrageous. Likewise is the cast of desperate characters who are big enough to speak them.
The biggest gripe against this book is that it's lacking the blood and guts violence from his other novels. Ok, that I will give to you. There isn't very much violence, it's more of a flirtation with disaster. It's refreshing to see Thompson write a hard-boiled comedy without dumping a bucket of blood on top.
The plot is a little so-so, but as Stephen King says about plot: "The good writer's last resort and the dullard's first choice." What makes this book shine are the character interactions and risky situations.
Good pulp doesn't have to be all gore.
February 21, 2024
This is some way from being Thompson at his best, and it’s easy to say that’s down to the lack of violence, which is usually a feature of his work. But I think it’s deeper than that, the progression of the plot feels forced at times, there isn’t the smooth quickening pace of the narrative that one is used to with him. It’s unknown for me to look up (or down) at how much of the book is left when reading Thomson, but I did find I was doing it here.
The dialogue is still a strong feature, witty, and at times takes you back, as it can be outrageous.
The protagonist, Britt Rainstar, a writer and the last surviving member of a once illustrious family, isn’t easy to warm to, though that’s typical of a lot of pulp fiction. It is set rurally, where Britt is cheating on his wife, and gets found out. Boredom from his life in a tumbledown family mansion has got the better of him. He has been tricked into marrying Connie, and once he has got wise on the situation is denied a divorce by her. She is then crippled by a car accident, with Britt at the wheel, though he is absolved of any fault.
He is approached by Manuela Aloe, who runs a shady corporation, to write ecological pamphlets for them, for a large amount of cash, and when she seduces him also, he thinks his luck is in.
A feature of Thompson novels is his creation of women with dubious intent, who turn out to be nasty pieces of work, and this is no exception.
All in all, it’s late Thompson, a convoluted and woolly plot, which lacks the sinister nature of his best work, but is strong on dialogue and in the creation of his key characters.
The dialogue is still a strong feature, witty, and at times takes you back, as it can be outrageous.
The protagonist, Britt Rainstar, a writer and the last surviving member of a once illustrious family, isn’t easy to warm to, though that’s typical of a lot of pulp fiction. It is set rurally, where Britt is cheating on his wife, and gets found out. Boredom from his life in a tumbledown family mansion has got the better of him. He has been tricked into marrying Connie, and once he has got wise on the situation is denied a divorce by her. She is then crippled by a car accident, with Britt at the wheel, though he is absolved of any fault.
He is approached by Manuela Aloe, who runs a shady corporation, to write ecological pamphlets for them, for a large amount of cash, and when she seduces him also, he thinks his luck is in.
A feature of Thompson novels is his creation of women with dubious intent, who turn out to be nasty pieces of work, and this is no exception.
All in all, it’s late Thompson, a convoluted and woolly plot, which lacks the sinister nature of his best work, but is strong on dialogue and in the creation of his key characters.
November 29, 2013
Great, great read. Dizzying sensuality, deceit, doom - and black humour. "It is one of fate's saddest pranks to imbue the least sexually appetizing of us with the hugest sexual appetites." Laughter in the dark.
September 15, 2020
Makes sense that the Year of Jim Thompson coincided with the Year of our Lord 2020 because both have been mostly duds. His lesser works are just bad. This might not have been as painful as The Golden Gizmo or The Alcoholics but it's an uninspired Double Indemnity knockoff that Thompson wrote near the end of his life. Bad. Bad. Bad.
August 25, 2012
For me, reading Jim Thompson's books is like having dessert. He fulfills my need to eat up crime stories. This one is about a rich, sexy woman who enters into Britt Rainstar's life. As things begin to take a bad turn in Britt's life, he tries to get out of her clutches before he himself gets murdered.
August 15, 2011
Jim Thompson's final novel is light in consideration of his past work, but this is certainly no swan song. As usual, Thompson's characters are fully intriguing and interesting. Britt's unreliability and the way in which the author carefully persuades the perspective of the antagonist kept me guessing until the end. Thompson doesn't seem to mind having all of the women in his novel be portrayed as neurotic or unstable: Connie is an invalid always asking for money, Mrs. Oldmstead slowly cheats Britt, Manny is always secretive of her hospital stays, and I could never quite tell how his in-home nurse could practically blush on command. While pretty women all seem to have a femme fatale way of attracting our protagonist, the downside of all of this is how they all seem to give in to Britt's commands, how they never seem to defy him and if they do, apologize immediately for their trespasses. It's almost uncomfortable at times for how strangely, and sexually, fantastical the dialogue and romanticized weeping would seem.
There are three women specifically in Britt's life: Connie, Manny, and Kay. This may seem like quite a lot of women to deal with in one story, and in truth it is. Nothing seems to bind their narratives together aside from Britt, who is the love interest. Aside from that, the mysteries are separate, and only intertwine at the last possible minute in what is an admittedly fantastically thought out and comic struggle. Because the stories are on their own, they also fall victim to quick cover-ups and explanations. Some may say a part of that is the pulp style, but I think pulp works better with being spare in explanation, rawer and with less justification and more action. When the story is so quickly explained, it makes the action look ridiculous. As a more lighthearted book, perhaps that's the point. I just can't say it worked for me.
Aside from my qualms, I can't say I didn't enjoy the novel in all of its ridiculousness.
There are three women specifically in Britt's life: Connie, Manny, and Kay. This may seem like quite a lot of women to deal with in one story, and in truth it is. Nothing seems to bind their narratives together aside from Britt, who is the love interest. Aside from that, the mysteries are separate, and only intertwine at the last possible minute in what is an admittedly fantastically thought out and comic struggle. Because the stories are on their own, they also fall victim to quick cover-ups and explanations. Some may say a part of that is the pulp style, but I think pulp works better with being spare in explanation, rawer and with less justification and more action. When the story is so quickly explained, it makes the action look ridiculous. As a more lighthearted book, perhaps that's the point. I just can't say it worked for me.
Aside from my qualms, I can't say I didn't enjoy the novel in all of its ridiculousness.
April 21, 2022
The Rip-Off, a posthumously published Thompson novel, is the author in his humorous mode, which is hit or miss at best. The plot concerns a classic noir sucker who is the target of someone’s nefarious plot… or is he just paranoid?! You know the drill… this one was clearly written well past Thompson’s peak, and the humor tends to fall pretty flat; the main character’s credulous nature strains believability and detracts from his depth of personality. The murder attempts are absurd even by pulp standards, and the central love triangle is a tough sell. I’ve yet to meet a Thompson book that isn’t a quick read, so at least it has that in its favor. But all in all, the Rip-Off probably would have stayed on the cutting room floor (or whatever the equivalent is for novelists) if Thompson had been alive to weigh in.
April 21, 2021
Maybe two and a half stars, but it seemed like an experiment that Thompson purposely never published when he was alive. It came out a decade after his death. The book felt like it didn't know whether it was a noir novel of mayhem or a farcical comedy. The hero was so feckless that even when he was in danger I didn't really care. And the femmes fatales were just silly. I got few smiles, but the jokes were so off-hand that I was never sure they were intended.
January 4, 2019
Jim Thompson is a fascinating writer but boy is he uneven. I think this is the twenty-first of his twenty-seven novels I've read, and it may be the worst. It's so bad that it comes across as self-parody, only I don't think it is. The kindest thing I can say about it was that it was worth a few chuckles here and there. But the plotting, characterisation and writing are lamentable.
July 1, 2013
Wow: this one is crazy, even by Big Jim standards. One damn thing after another, and a female urination fetish throughout. Something like a mystery, only without humans acting as humans do, and a surprise killer who wears makeup, may look like a goblin, and comes completely from out of nowhere. Also, the narrator is Native American, but to what end I find it impossible to guess. (Not that there needs to be an end to being a Native American, but he talks about it so frequently that I thought the book might do--well, something with it. Unless the whole thing is some sort of allegory for the American treatment of natives, in which case, ugh.)
This one really hammers home the "preposterous" in "preposterously entertaining."
This one really hammers home the "preposterous" in "preposterously entertaining."
September 16, 2013
This is a strange one. Not what I expected at all. A novel filled with characters that are more than a little off kilter. Britt Rainstar has a wife he left behind and a girlfriend that wants to be his wife. Oh, and his girlfriend is playing sadistic games with him, and just might be trying to kill him. How Britt ended up in this mess is quite a meandering tale and maybe I just wasn't in the mood for this much humor with my pulp. I enjoyed it, but it wasn't what I would call great by any stretch of the imagination.
September 19, 2013
What a mess this guy is constantly getting himself into, and he doesn't ever have the spine to get himself out!I liked him anyway. It seems like everyone is out to get him, but there's a sinister cast to the whole thing that kept me riveted to find out what was actually going on. The strangest thing about it is this guy is broke, has nothing at all - the motivation for everything kept me puzzled right up until the end. But it's a strange book, with a strange flavor that I really (perhaps unexpectedly) enjoyed.
August 4, 2008
I was pleasantly surprised by this book. Had heard it was not one of his best, but when I got around to reading it, I loved it. The ending is a little slipshod, but as is typical with Thompson, the first-person narrator is great, the twists and turns are freaky and satisfying, and there are some fantastic one-liners. Read it! And yes, the cover (pictured here, by Vintage) actually figures into the story.
May 18, 2013
Most of the reviews of this book label it just average. The Rip-Off was my introduction to Jim Thompson and so I this title will always have a special place on my bookshelf. Jim Thompson is not unique in writing Crime Fiction, he just seems to do it better and with seemingly less effort than anyone else. I really liked and connected with the main character and, as always, the ending really threw me for a loop.
July 28, 2025
¡Que fácil me resulta alabar/ hablar de Jim Thompson!
Hace como cosas de dos años leí a Thompson por primera vez con su obra "El asesino dentro de mí", y me gustó tanto que me prometí volver a leer algo de su obra.
Ahora, dos años después me he reencontrado con Jim Thompson en su última obra publicada, de forma póstuma.
Bien, pues si salí encantado con el primer libro que leí de él, ahora después de terminar este libro, quiero/necesito leer todo lo publicado de este increíble autor.
Me ha sorprendido el encontrarme una novela totalmente distinta a lo que leí por primera vez, pero a la misma vez más atrapante si cabe.
Jim Thompson siguió siendo, hasta su última obra, un escritor duro, sin florituras, crudo e incluso desagradable.
Es una maravilla la forma de narrar de este señor, y me jugaría el pellejo por afirmar que es uno de los grandes escritores de novela negra de todos los tiempos.
Eso sí, he podido corroborar que la literatura de Jim Thompson no es para todo el mundo. Abstenerse estómagos sensibles y almas impresionables.
Volveré pronto Thompson, lo prometo.
Hace como cosas de dos años leí a Thompson por primera vez con su obra "El asesino dentro de mí", y me gustó tanto que me prometí volver a leer algo de su obra.
Ahora, dos años después me he reencontrado con Jim Thompson en su última obra publicada, de forma póstuma.
Bien, pues si salí encantado con el primer libro que leí de él, ahora después de terminar este libro, quiero/necesito leer todo lo publicado de este increíble autor.
Me ha sorprendido el encontrarme una novela totalmente distinta a lo que leí por primera vez, pero a la misma vez más atrapante si cabe.
Jim Thompson siguió siendo, hasta su última obra, un escritor duro, sin florituras, crudo e incluso desagradable.
Es una maravilla la forma de narrar de este señor, y me jugaría el pellejo por afirmar que es uno de los grandes escritores de novela negra de todos los tiempos.
Eso sí, he podido corroborar que la literatura de Jim Thompson no es para todo el mundo. Abstenerse estómagos sensibles y almas impresionables.
Volveré pronto Thompson, lo prometo.
April 9, 2025
Posthumously published, this novel was apparently written in the late 1960s or (more likely, given the saltiness) early 1970s. According to what I could find online, it was rejected for publication when written. (Frustratingly, there is no introduction to explain anything about this text.) It is not Thompson's finest work. I've read most of his novels, and this one ranks pretty low. There are some interesting twists to the plot (e.g. our feckless protagonist Brett Rainstar has not one but two different killers after him, explaining the variety of attempt methods), and Thompson's characteristic nihilism is on display, albeit perhaps a bit too on the nose in that Rainstar's ancestral home is now in a literal dump (shades of Beckett, absent the absurdism). That said, the characters are never really plausible, nor is the plot particularly compelling. I would not have thought it was unpublishable, but I can see why it was rejected.
August 5, 2018
Published posthumously in 1988, feels out of place in the Thompson canon. Trying too hard to be modern or contemporary in some ways.
Jokey in a way that doesn't work, leaves you wondering 'who cares?' instead of 'who dunnit?' He ends up staying with the wrong woman (should've chose the cop, not the heiress). And also there's some racism.
Should've had more stuff on soil erosion. And rezoning the city dump to his private property was clever. Literal ratfucking.
Jokey in a way that doesn't work, leaves you wondering 'who cares?' instead of 'who dunnit?' He ends up staying with the wrong woman (should've chose the cop, not the heiress). And also there's some racism.
Should've had more stuff on soil erosion. And rezoning the city dump to his private property was clever. Literal ratfucking.
April 27, 2024
Jim Thompson's last novel. Rejected; published years after his death. I can see why. Non-sensical characters, non-sensical plotting, non-sensical dialogue. His protagonists are frequently autobiographical, or mentally unstable, or alcoholic, or any combination of. In this case, the author's own lifetime of alcoholism seems to have caught up with him, as everything about the book seems to be detached from any sort of realism.
April 11, 2022
I got 54 pages into this, and I cannot, absolutely cannot, read anymore. This is the most disgusting, misogynistic book I think I have ever read. The author's hatred for women comes through loud and clear, and his attitude that men can do whatever they want to women, and get away with it, and have whatever opinions about them, and get away with it, comes through disgustingly loud.
May 22, 2025
I started to dig it - it was weird and violent and had promise... But my interest quickly unraveled. Its meat lacks a certain protein or enzyme - possibly it has no spine - and I can see why it was not published in his lifetime. Recommended for the curiosity seeker or Jim Thompson completist - I did not finish this one.
July 14, 2025
This book is a noir-ish psychological thriller about a self-aware fall guy who falls for a femme fatale. Plenty of sex and action, but I never really felt enough of a connection to the characters to make the story memorable.
Read
December 27, 2019Did not like this. Chose not to finish it.
March 27, 2020
Very uneven by JT's standards, but there's enough humor to keep you reading and it is chock-full of your typical Thompson jackanapes and scoundrels.
Want to read
July 19, 2020elibrary
July 3, 2021
A fast page turning, light beach read with an improbable plot.
July 15, 2021
An exhilarating take on crime novels. An over-the-top plot with Thompson's usual mastery of characters, phobias and language.
February 16, 2023
What a horrid little book. I deserve a medal for slogging through this facetious, hard-to-swallow, plotless, grim, and downright silly story.
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