Reed Farrel Coleman’s Moe Prager story was more satisfactorily complex that many in the genre. Did the dying man really seek to kill his wife, almost half a century after the Shoah, because of what she did to survive in the camp? Or did he want to make a final transition (with her) from a hard earthly life to the "true world," where both will see God and be judged? He would not get to do as a murderer, especially a vengeful one. I liked the focus on aging. The descriptions of the faces, bent bodies, skeletal appearance of today’s holocaust survivors added to the mystery of one of them making a final “gesture,” as it were, before death. Thank you, Reed Coleman, for focusing on human complexity, rather than easy sentiment and moral indignation, as many do nowadays, about many historical issues and events., thus inhibiting true analysis of events and their causes.
The writing of Eric Beetner’s “On the Job Interview” (it begins on p. 82, although the contents page states differently) is extremely vivid in depicting the dress and body language of the characters, and the Grand Guignol type events. Perhaps the beginning of a novella, it ends “It’s gona be interesting.” A rather psychopathic, very experienced thief and a laid back, long haired young man (the thief’s least favorite type) get to know each other through a blood-spattered trial period. Beetner has just the right perspective get the reader shocks to the point of either disgust or laughter—the kind people feel when they cannot get out of a situation that they know is beyond their capacity to survive.
Speaking of novellas, there’s a fine one by Frederick Nebel, whom, as Rick Ollerman explains in his Intro, was Dashiell Hammett’s successor at Black Mask. I like to imagine I’m feeling the rough pulp paper when I read these oldies but goodies.
Jen Conley’s “Trash” has a compassion that she skillfully develops for her protagonist, a female career policewoman, from beginning to end. Part of this is the way Andie tells her story. She evinces humility, compassion (she takes back a cheating husband—whose remorse is convincing due to the writer’s nice switching of point of view), and restraint at not striking back at a repulsive person’s insult (although as a cop to do so might have been excused). Throughout the story, she struggles to make her dog like her. They have much in common. Both have to adapt, after being abandoned. Both need to adjust. Both are survivors. They escape from loneliness, with each other. This is ironic, but the opposite of sentimental—it is sincerely absolutely humane and moving. Another novel in the developmental stage?