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Inferno sulla terra
L’inferno può essere la paura dell’ignoto, ma, se ad attanagliarci quotidianamente è un turbine psicotico scatenato dall’incapacità patologica di sbarcare il lunario, dai sogni frustrati di una professione (quella dello scrittore) che non dà da vivere e che lascia il posto a un lavoro più remunerativo ma noioso, da colleghi insopportabili, da una madre ossessiva e da una moglie adorante e sempre sul filo del rasoio, affrontare una nuova giornata all’insegna del grigiore rischia di essere una condanna. Jimmie Dillon, uno scrittore fallito e in gravi difficoltà economiche, sulla graticola in famiglia e insoddisfatto sul luogo di lavoro, proverà a superare traversie proibitive e un terribile blocco creativo in un’America poco propensa alla solidarietà e sempre più ossessionata dalla ricerca del tornaconto personale. Autobiografico quanto può esserlo un esordio, Inferno sulla terra, scritto nel 1942, lascia intendere, attraverso le vicissitudini di Jimmie Dillon, di che pasta sia fatto Jim Thompson. Romanzo di profonda introspezione psicologica, Inferno sulla terra è una lucida analisi della banalità della disperazione e una spietata critica del sogno americano, la cui entità chimerica viene magistralmente messa alla berlina: Jimmie Dillon è l’uomo comune che ogni americano potrebbe essere e che non vorrebbe mai diventare.
302 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1942
27 people are currently reading
2860 people want to read
About the author
Jim Thompson
160 books1,642 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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August 9, 2023
Now and on Earth (1942) was Thompson’s first published novel, half autobiographical and half fiction about James Dillon, who leaves Oklahoma City, where he was trying to eke out a living as a serious writer, and starts work in a wartime San Diego aircraft parts factory. It was not until ten years later in the years 1952 through 1957 that Thompson had his huge burst of creative energy and published numerous novels. It took a while for him to catch on it seems.
It opens with Dillon walking home from work, climbing up the steep hill where “[y]ou can tie your shoelaces going up them without stooping.” He has three kids, Jo (at nine, the oldest), Mack, and Shannon. Make no mistake. Life is tough. He gets home, tired, his lung filling with molasses and his piles torturing him. Shannon is the crazy kid, lightning fast, throwing fits as far as the eye could see, but come to find out later that she had latent talents such as alphabetizing all the magazines at the drugstore. Dillon is supposed to be a writer, but there are no such jobs to be had, so he has to take whatever they are giving out and do whatever he is told at the factory. He actually went there originally hoping that they would not hire him and wondering what he would do if they did.
Interestingly, Thompson paints Dillon as an innocent, who tells us that he should know by now that no one was going to do anything for him unless there is a catch to it, but he kept right on getting caught with his guard down. Later, Thompson’s characters would become more clever and more devious.
He tells us that when he sees his wife Roberta, he is “in heaven and hell at the same time. There was a time when I could drown myself in ecstasy, and blot out what was to follow.” “A cloud surrounds me, a black mist, and I am smothered. And the horrors that are to come crowd close, observing, and I feel lewd and ashamed.” With sentences like this, even though Now and On Earth is unlike his later crime noir novels, we get a sense of the lingering darkness Thompson can feel around his characters.
He had grown up in Oklahoma City where Pa was still trying to make an oil well produce a dollar and he and his sisters were living off neighbor’s handouts, but they dropped the malted milk on the way home and had to try and pick the glass out of it when they got home to feed the baby. A portrait of mom he says would have been entitled Despair. Like Thompson himself, Dillon had been a bellhop back in Oklahoma before catching the writing bug.
Dillon tells the reader that he met Roberta when he was still making love to Lois who herself had been married a few months. He tells us that he met Roberta at a school mixer, “rubbed her and felt her, and she didn’t seem to mind.” It is her first time and two months later with Jo on the way they got married. He tells us that Roberta loves him so much “that she doesn’t give a whoop whether I go to heaven or hell if she can go along. She would, in fact, prefer hell.”
The prose ultimately becomes a bit disjointed as Dillon shuffles back and forth between life at the parts plant and his despairing childhood in Oklahoma, possibly the narration is showing Dillon having a bit of a nervous breakdown. At the end, though, it shows the plant security and FBI interviewing Dillon about his connections to the Communist Party, a nod to the fact that many of the writers in the post-war era had toyed with Communist ideas in the Thirties or knew someone who had.
All in all, Now and on Earth is an interesting piece which offers hints (if you look closely) of what would later come out of Thompson’s dark and foreboding imagination. On its own, though, the novel is a bit disjointed and does not fully succeed in offering a plot-line that rises to a climax and keeps the reader captivated.
It opens with Dillon walking home from work, climbing up the steep hill where “[y]ou can tie your shoelaces going up them without stooping.” He has three kids, Jo (at nine, the oldest), Mack, and Shannon. Make no mistake. Life is tough. He gets home, tired, his lung filling with molasses and his piles torturing him. Shannon is the crazy kid, lightning fast, throwing fits as far as the eye could see, but come to find out later that she had latent talents such as alphabetizing all the magazines at the drugstore. Dillon is supposed to be a writer, but there are no such jobs to be had, so he has to take whatever they are giving out and do whatever he is told at the factory. He actually went there originally hoping that they would not hire him and wondering what he would do if they did.
Interestingly, Thompson paints Dillon as an innocent, who tells us that he should know by now that no one was going to do anything for him unless there is a catch to it, but he kept right on getting caught with his guard down. Later, Thompson’s characters would become more clever and more devious.
He tells us that when he sees his wife Roberta, he is “in heaven and hell at the same time. There was a time when I could drown myself in ecstasy, and blot out what was to follow.” “A cloud surrounds me, a black mist, and I am smothered. And the horrors that are to come crowd close, observing, and I feel lewd and ashamed.” With sentences like this, even though Now and On Earth is unlike his later crime noir novels, we get a sense of the lingering darkness Thompson can feel around his characters.
He had grown up in Oklahoma City where Pa was still trying to make an oil well produce a dollar and he and his sisters were living off neighbor’s handouts, but they dropped the malted milk on the way home and had to try and pick the glass out of it when they got home to feed the baby. A portrait of mom he says would have been entitled Despair. Like Thompson himself, Dillon had been a bellhop back in Oklahoma before catching the writing bug.
Dillon tells the reader that he met Roberta when he was still making love to Lois who herself had been married a few months. He tells us that he met Roberta at a school mixer, “rubbed her and felt her, and she didn’t seem to mind.” It is her first time and two months later with Jo on the way they got married. He tells us that Roberta loves him so much “that she doesn’t give a whoop whether I go to heaven or hell if she can go along. She would, in fact, prefer hell.”
The prose ultimately becomes a bit disjointed as Dillon shuffles back and forth between life at the parts plant and his despairing childhood in Oklahoma, possibly the narration is showing Dillon having a bit of a nervous breakdown. At the end, though, it shows the plant security and FBI interviewing Dillon about his connections to the Communist Party, a nod to the fact that many of the writers in the post-war era had toyed with Communist ideas in the Thirties or knew someone who had.
All in all, Now and on Earth is an interesting piece which offers hints (if you look closely) of what would later come out of Thompson’s dark and foreboding imagination. On its own, though, the novel is a bit disjointed and does not fully succeed in offering a plot-line that rises to a climax and keeps the reader captivated.
December 3, 2012
Lately all roads have been trying to lead me to Jim Thompson, so I was pretty excited when I found this book at the bottom of a stack; I forgot I bought/had it and had no expectations for it. The description on the back cover had me picturing something much darker than what wound up being sweeter and funnier than that. Not that it's a sweet and funny story, just sweetER and funnIER than I anticipated.
It was incredibly mundane and domestic - poetically so. The detailed workday descriptions reminded me of Catch-22 a wee bit and Out which apparently bored some people because of the lengthy descriptions of assembly-line work. I, however, am not bored by such things although the aircraft plant stuff was over my head in this one. It felt kind of like reading a blog/diary full of the author's frustrations.
There were tons of things I could relate to in this book, making it perfect reading for right now when I, too, am feeling a little like I just can't get a break, the world is trying to sabotage me, and the kind of work I want to do and the way I need to do it is just out of reach and nobody really fucking gets it. Plus I love how he mentioned his hemorrhoids quite a few times. It all struck me as very true. My favorite chapter was the one with the "but I'm NOT Jack London!" scene.
I personally loved this book five stars worth, but it was kind of scatty with patches of brilliance (not surprised to read this was his first novel) so I'm going to read more of him and no doubt give that stuff five stars. He nailed the anxiety-riddled personality-type, though. The kind of person/people who overthink things and get self-conscious to the point where they can't even stand or walk in a natural way and always feel (and ARE) conspicuous.
12/3/12 Changed rating to five stars after reading The Grifters.
It was incredibly mundane and domestic - poetically so. The detailed workday descriptions reminded me of Catch-22 a wee bit and Out which apparently bored some people because of the lengthy descriptions of assembly-line work. I, however, am not bored by such things although the aircraft plant stuff was over my head in this one. It felt kind of like reading a blog/diary full of the author's frustrations.
There were tons of things I could relate to in this book, making it perfect reading for right now when I, too, am feeling a little like I just can't get a break, the world is trying to sabotage me, and the kind of work I want to do and the way I need to do it is just out of reach and nobody really fucking gets it. Plus I love how he mentioned his hemorrhoids quite a few times. It all struck me as very true. My favorite chapter was the one with the "but I'm NOT Jack London!" scene.
I personally loved this book five stars worth, but it was kind of scatty with patches of brilliance (not surprised to read this was his first novel) so I'm going to read more of him and no doubt give that stuff five stars. He nailed the anxiety-riddled personality-type, though. The kind of person/people who overthink things and get self-conscious to the point where they can't even stand or walk in a natural way and always feel (and ARE) conspicuous.
12/3/12 Changed rating to five stars after reading The Grifters.
September 5, 2013
I liked this book, probably more than it deserves to be liked, given its odd shapelessness--though that, of course, is part of its point: life is plotless, just one damn thing afer another as one is slowly and inevitably ground down. Jim Thompson's first novel is, basically, a literary novel written as it if were a pulp novel, sort of a "what if Faulkner wrote clear concise sentences?" kind of thing (at one point the book actually cites a story by Robert Heinlein as one of the best pieces of writing, technically speaking, the narrator has ever seen, a remarkable thing to find in a 1940s novel with literary pretensions). It verges on naturalism, with its depiction of people as effectively no more than victims of economic forces and their own biological and familial origins, and it's grim stuff--crushing poverty, alcoholism, unwanted pregnancy and so on--without any of the catharsis you'd get in a pulp novel exploring the same themes: no elaborate scam plot, no spectacular violence (though a few much more realistic ones), no pat resolution, etc. Its autobiographical elements make it even more interesting to anyone who knows a bit about Thompson. The narrator, Jim Dillon, is pretty clearly a Thompson stand-in--a struggling alcoholic writer depserate to produce fine work and not fall into grinding out pulp fodder. Had Thompson succeeded in this, of course, we would lack some of the finest pulp novels ever written, but it is rather sad to see him so clearly present that outcome as a squandering of a writer's gift. Grim, as I said above, unremitting, and extremely pessimistic in its possibly over-stressed assertion that people can never escape from their own limits and predilections, but remarkably well-written--innovative and experimental without being precious or opaque.
Read
May 22, 2019THE GREAT COMPLETIST CHALLENGE: In which I revisit older authors and attempt to read every book they ever wrote
Currently in the challenge: Martin Amis | Isaac Asimov (Robot/Empire/Foundation) | Margaret Atwood | JG Ballard | Clive Barker | Philip K Dick | Daphne Du Maurier | William Gibson | Michel Houellebecq | John Irving | Kazuo Ishiguro | John le Carre | Bernard Malamud | China Mieville | VS Naipaul | Chuck Palahniuk | Tim Powers | Philip Roth | Neal Stephenson | Jim Thompson | John Updike | Kurt Vonnegut | PG Wodehouse
Finished: Christopher Buckley | Shirley Jackson
DID NOT FINISH. I recently had the chance to download all 29 novels written by Jim Thompson, originally spurred by learning that surrealist filmmaker Yorgos Lanthimos' next movie is going to be an adaptation of Thompson's late-career noir classic Pop. 1280, but also because I've been a fan of various other Thompson novels that have now been turned into movies, including After Dark, My Sweet, The Getaway, The Grifters, and Michael Winterbottom's unforgettable adaptation of The Killer Inside Me. But I've been warned several times already that Thompson's oeuvre is the very definition of hit-and-miss; and indeed, after starting with his very first book, 1942's Now and On Earth, I found it so unsatisfying that I decided to just abandon it altogether and move on quickly to the next.
It's important to remember that Thompson started his career wanting to be a "serious" writer, prompted by his time in the New Deal's Federal Writers Project during the Great Depression, the home of virtually all the famous far-left social-realist political authors that were to come out of that period; and so for his first novel, he wrote a semi-autobiographical tale about down-and-out blue-collar workers that's very much in the vein of Richard Wright, Nelson Algren and John Steinbeck, and by "in the same vein" I mean a plot that can only be described as, "Everything is miserable and then it all gets even more miserable, fuck you Herbert Hoover." (Indeed, it's worth noting that this book was published just a year after Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath, with Thompson clearly taking most of his cues here off that hugely influential progressive tale.)
The interesting thing about this novel is how much more gleeful Thompson is here than most of his 1930s Communist-flirting social-realist buddies to throw his reader into the absolute deepest part of the pit of filth and shit where the characters from most of these kinds of stories live; while authors like Wright and Algren had already learned by this point to lace their doom-and-gloom stories with moments of levity and poetic beauty, the very thing that allowed them to keep working in this vein well into the '50s, Thompson doesn't even get ten pages before relating a story about a mother having to pick bits of broken glass out of her baby's malted milk powder before feeding her, then being so flustered by the experience that she accidentally gives her two other kids a nearly fatal overdose of pharmacy-grade opium.
It's easy in anecdotes like these to see how Thompson ended up being such a master of the outrageous noir by this point two decades later; but it's also easy to see why he crashed and burned so badly in his attempt to be a serious social-realist writer along the lines of Steinbeck, which is what forced him into the world of low-class but reliably paying dime-store novels in the first place. I'm glad I got to take on this first novel and understand all this context about the later, more famous books by Thompson I'll eventually be reading; but now that I've done it and shared the experience here, rest assured that you no longer have to do so yourself. For now, onward and upward to 1946's Heed the Thunder, which according to Wikipedia is a transitional novel where Thompson was still toeing the progressive social-realist line, but this time sets his story among a Jesse-James-like gang of low-class criminals in Great Depression Nebraska. Keep an eye out for my review of that next month.
Jim Thompson books now reviewed: Pop. 1280
Currently in the challenge: Martin Amis | Isaac Asimov (Robot/Empire/Foundation) | Margaret Atwood | JG Ballard | Clive Barker | Philip K Dick | Daphne Du Maurier | William Gibson | Michel Houellebecq | John Irving | Kazuo Ishiguro | John le Carre | Bernard Malamud | China Mieville | VS Naipaul | Chuck Palahniuk | Tim Powers | Philip Roth | Neal Stephenson | Jim Thompson | John Updike | Kurt Vonnegut | PG Wodehouse
Finished: Christopher Buckley | Shirley Jackson
DID NOT FINISH. I recently had the chance to download all 29 novels written by Jim Thompson, originally spurred by learning that surrealist filmmaker Yorgos Lanthimos' next movie is going to be an adaptation of Thompson's late-career noir classic Pop. 1280, but also because I've been a fan of various other Thompson novels that have now been turned into movies, including After Dark, My Sweet, The Getaway, The Grifters, and Michael Winterbottom's unforgettable adaptation of The Killer Inside Me. But I've been warned several times already that Thompson's oeuvre is the very definition of hit-and-miss; and indeed, after starting with his very first book, 1942's Now and On Earth, I found it so unsatisfying that I decided to just abandon it altogether and move on quickly to the next.
It's important to remember that Thompson started his career wanting to be a "serious" writer, prompted by his time in the New Deal's Federal Writers Project during the Great Depression, the home of virtually all the famous far-left social-realist political authors that were to come out of that period; and so for his first novel, he wrote a semi-autobiographical tale about down-and-out blue-collar workers that's very much in the vein of Richard Wright, Nelson Algren and John Steinbeck, and by "in the same vein" I mean a plot that can only be described as, "Everything is miserable and then it all gets even more miserable, fuck you Herbert Hoover." (Indeed, it's worth noting that this book was published just a year after Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath, with Thompson clearly taking most of his cues here off that hugely influential progressive tale.)
The interesting thing about this novel is how much more gleeful Thompson is here than most of his 1930s Communist-flirting social-realist buddies to throw his reader into the absolute deepest part of the pit of filth and shit where the characters from most of these kinds of stories live; while authors like Wright and Algren had already learned by this point to lace their doom-and-gloom stories with moments of levity and poetic beauty, the very thing that allowed them to keep working in this vein well into the '50s, Thompson doesn't even get ten pages before relating a story about a mother having to pick bits of broken glass out of her baby's malted milk powder before feeding her, then being so flustered by the experience that she accidentally gives her two other kids a nearly fatal overdose of pharmacy-grade opium.
It's easy in anecdotes like these to see how Thompson ended up being such a master of the outrageous noir by this point two decades later; but it's also easy to see why he crashed and burned so badly in his attempt to be a serious social-realist writer along the lines of Steinbeck, which is what forced him into the world of low-class but reliably paying dime-store novels in the first place. I'm glad I got to take on this first novel and understand all this context about the later, more famous books by Thompson I'll eventually be reading; but now that I've done it and shared the experience here, rest assured that you no longer have to do so yourself. For now, onward and upward to 1946's Heed the Thunder, which according to Wikipedia is a transitional novel where Thompson was still toeing the progressive social-realist line, but this time sets his story among a Jesse-James-like gang of low-class criminals in Great Depression Nebraska. Keep an eye out for my review of that next month.
Jim Thompson books now reviewed: Pop. 1280
August 28, 2024
2.5.
Not a typical Jim Thompson... more a Steinbeckian working class struggle tale.
Not a typical Jim Thompson... more a Steinbeckian working class struggle tale.
October 7, 2013
Back around 1996, I picked up Savage Art: A Biography of Jim Thompson by Robert Polito, shortly after it won a couple of awards for best biographical work. I started reading that book which I founded engrossing but decided to put it aside until I read ALL of Thompson’s published works so I wouldn’t “spoil” the experience by having all the plots revealed in the critical biography. Distracted by life and other manifestations of obsessive compulsion, I quickly put that “project” aside, until almost two decades later, when a couple weeks ago I suddenly revived this project by ordering all of the remaining works of Thompson I did not own previously, and intending to read all of Thompson’s works in published order and capping it all off by reading Savage Art to completion. However, after reading each book I will review the portions of Savage Art in which Polito discusses the plot and critiques the book.
I begin with Now and on Earth which was published in 1942. I believe I read this first in the late 90s and was disappointed, probably because it is not crime fiction and no one ends up murdered. Older now, I was surprised to find this is an excellent novel. I would first warn off those readers who do not like to read about characters they do not find likeable, unless they enjoy seriously flawed characters, you know the ones populating the real world. This is the real world and a natural subject for an artist like Thompson, look elsewhere for happy-days escapist crap.
As previously stated, this is not crime fiction but the writing style is noir or hard-boiled told in the first person. Polito describes the book as having “three complementary narratives. Equal parts of a classic blue-collar novel, a plaintive confession, and a searing portrait of an incipient psychopath…” First off, I disagree that James Dillon, the narrator is an incipient psychopath. Dillon is a deeply scarred individual from a dysfunctional family who marries for lust and finds his writing career stifled by his own wife and children, alcoholism, obsessing over his new job, not to mention his sisters and mother who also all end up living with and dependent upon him although none of them, with the possible exception of his 9 year daughter Jo, understand him and his desire to create art. They would prefer he be a hack churning out stories for money. However, he does express some feeling for his family, including remorse at how he has treated them, while at the same time plotting his escape from them. There is some extreme love/hate feelings which most of us would not admit to but which are part and parcel in many human relationships.
The novel depicts with extreme realism the job Dillon feels forced to take at an aircraft manufacturer in San Diego during World War II. Although hating his job and co-workers, Dillon excels at it eventually even devising a new accounting method for the inventory of parts he must track. There is a great deal of realistic detail of time and place that is apparently based on a real job held by Thompson. In fact, this book is viewed by family members to be a veiled memoir of those times. Although at novel’s end, Dillon questions ”Probably I’ll never be able to explain to anyone. Not even if I wrote a book…” After reading that book, I think Thompson has succeeded in showing the dark side of domestic life in 1940s wartime America and the desperation it generated in a flawed, but artistic personality. (As a side note, I recently finished Vasily Grossman’s Life and Fate which in part depicts the dark side of domestic life in 1940s wartime Soviet Union by depicting a Soviet scientist at home and work. Clearly these books are not mirror images, Life and Fate being over 800 pages long and much more ambitious and reaching in scope and much different stylistically, but anyone with an interest in the era would be rewarded by reading both books).
The book apparently received critical praise upon publication, but was not successful. In the Black Lizard paperback edition, there is a introductory essay by Stephen King which is not specific to the novel along with a short “New York Times” quote of generic praise of Thompson as “best suspense writer going” on the back cover. One wonders why they dropped blurbs which per Polito originally appeared on the novel, such as Richard Wright’s “Here is a document as true as a birth or death certificate” and 1927 Pulitzer Prize winner Louis Bromfield’s “It is a remarkable transcription of a world which seldom finds its way into fiction.” Probably because neither are household names today, certainly not Bromfield.
I begin with Now and on Earth which was published in 1942. I believe I read this first in the late 90s and was disappointed, probably because it is not crime fiction and no one ends up murdered. Older now, I was surprised to find this is an excellent novel. I would first warn off those readers who do not like to read about characters they do not find likeable, unless they enjoy seriously flawed characters, you know the ones populating the real world. This is the real world and a natural subject for an artist like Thompson, look elsewhere for happy-days escapist crap.
As previously stated, this is not crime fiction but the writing style is noir or hard-boiled told in the first person. Polito describes the book as having “three complementary narratives. Equal parts of a classic blue-collar novel, a plaintive confession, and a searing portrait of an incipient psychopath…” First off, I disagree that James Dillon, the narrator is an incipient psychopath. Dillon is a deeply scarred individual from a dysfunctional family who marries for lust and finds his writing career stifled by his own wife and children, alcoholism, obsessing over his new job, not to mention his sisters and mother who also all end up living with and dependent upon him although none of them, with the possible exception of his 9 year daughter Jo, understand him and his desire to create art. They would prefer he be a hack churning out stories for money. However, he does express some feeling for his family, including remorse at how he has treated them, while at the same time plotting his escape from them. There is some extreme love/hate feelings which most of us would not admit to but which are part and parcel in many human relationships.
The novel depicts with extreme realism the job Dillon feels forced to take at an aircraft manufacturer in San Diego during World War II. Although hating his job and co-workers, Dillon excels at it eventually even devising a new accounting method for the inventory of parts he must track. There is a great deal of realistic detail of time and place that is apparently based on a real job held by Thompson. In fact, this book is viewed by family members to be a veiled memoir of those times. Although at novel’s end, Dillon questions ”Probably I’ll never be able to explain to anyone. Not even if I wrote a book…” After reading that book, I think Thompson has succeeded in showing the dark side of domestic life in 1940s wartime America and the desperation it generated in a flawed, but artistic personality. (As a side note, I recently finished Vasily Grossman’s Life and Fate which in part depicts the dark side of domestic life in 1940s wartime Soviet Union by depicting a Soviet scientist at home and work. Clearly these books are not mirror images, Life and Fate being over 800 pages long and much more ambitious and reaching in scope and much different stylistically, but anyone with an interest in the era would be rewarded by reading both books).
The book apparently received critical praise upon publication, but was not successful. In the Black Lizard paperback edition, there is a introductory essay by Stephen King which is not specific to the novel along with a short “New York Times” quote of generic praise of Thompson as “best suspense writer going” on the back cover. One wonders why they dropped blurbs which per Polito originally appeared on the novel, such as Richard Wright’s “Here is a document as true as a birth or death certificate” and 1927 Pulitzer Prize winner Louis Bromfield’s “It is a remarkable transcription of a world which seldom finds its way into fiction.” Probably because neither are household names today, certainly not Bromfield.
February 16, 2011
contains an introduction by stephen king with a great quote about jim thompson:
"the literature of a healthy society needs proctologists as much as brain surgeons"
this wasn't thompson's usual noir, but rather a semi-autobiographical novel about
old school family, i.e. extended, all living in the same house, often drinking,
sometimes fighting (oddly enough, usually when NOT drinking), any barely getting
by on one salary from a horrible job, but with a deep sense of responsibility
despite many setbacks. i.e. "heartwarming" in parts. but ultimately there wasn't
much of a story here, just a slice of life in a different time.
"the literature of a healthy society needs proctologists as much as brain surgeons"
this wasn't thompson's usual noir, but rather a semi-autobiographical novel about
old school family, i.e. extended, all living in the same house, often drinking,
sometimes fighting (oddly enough, usually when NOT drinking), any barely getting
by on one salary from a horrible job, but with a deep sense of responsibility
despite many setbacks. i.e. "heartwarming" in parts. but ultimately there wasn't
much of a story here, just a slice of life in a different time.
December 25, 2014
A different kind of novel from a different kind of writer. I love Jim Thompson.
July 4, 2014
Publicado en http://lecturaylocura.com/una-recopil...
Una recopilación de novelas de Jim Thompson. La escisión de la identidad
Aprovechando que acabo de terminar la biografía del escritor norteamericano, una joya de la que tendréis noticias en este blog en no mucho tiempo; se me ocurrió la posibilidad de hacer un pequeño monográfico con las obras que me quedaban por leer del escritor; ha valido mucho la pena, sobre todo porque gracias al análisis de la biografía, es indudable que ayudan a disfrutarlas mucho más.
La primera de ellas ha sido la última que ha sacado RBA en su serie negra, “Libertad Condicional”, obra encuadrada históricamente tras el que fue su primer gran éxito, esa obra maestra que es “El asesino dentro de mí”, esta influencia y la atracción del cine serán decisivas en el resultado final.
Partiendo de una buena idea, se nos presenta un presidio, Sandstone, donde el convicto Pat Cosgrove malvive, pero que, sin embargo, verá la posibilidad de salir gracias a la ayuda aparentemente desinteresada de Doc Luther, obteniendo la libertad condicional para trabajar con él, librándolo de un verdadero infierno:
“Luther creía estar acostumbrado a las aberraciones. Pero con Sandstone era imposible no escandalizarse. Sandstone no era una cárcel. Era una casa de locos en la que quien estaba loco era el director, y no los inquilinos. En Sandstone tan sólo había una forma de sobrevivir: llegar a ser más duro y más retorcido que el propio director. Si lo hacías -si conseguías caerle en gracia al hombre con los ojos extraordinariamente brillantes y la risa impredecible-, no sólo sobrevivías, sino que lo hacías con relativa comodidad. “
Es evidente, para nosotros, los lectores, que salir en estas condiciones tiene que tener un precio, pero el plan de Doc Luther no es evidente; es la espera, esa potencial amenaza, la que sostiene la narración. Según avanza, la desconfianza de Cosgrove será cada vez mayor:
“-¿Y no conocía nada a esa persona que le consiguió su libertad condicional… Que la compró por así decirlo?
-Exacto.
-Pues tiene usted razón, señor Cosgrove. Tiene motivos más que sobrados para desconfiar. A esa persona le hubiera resultado igual de barato y fácil conseguir que le concedieran el indulto. Con el indulto, usted podría haberse ido donde quisiera… Lejos de la periferia de su benefactor. Esa persona no tiene nada de benefactor. Esa persona no tiene nada de filántropa.”
No faltarán mujeres fatales, dobles juegos, traiciones… que llevarán a desentrañar la trama final desde el punto de vista de Cosgrove, verdadero narrador (excepto en el capítulo inicial que narra Luther) y afectado por los acontecimientos. Thompson no era un dechado de virtudes a la hora de plantear las tramas, la resolución resulta farragosa; el final feliz, desacostumbrado en el caso de Thompson, estuvo muy influenciado por la querencia del autor por conseguir un contrato con Hollywood para alguna de sus novelas. Aprovechar el éxito de su anterior novela parecía una buena oportunidad. La pena es que la novela se resiente mucho por esta circunstancia.
aqui_y_ahora_300x459“Aquí y ahora” fue la ópera prima del autor; publicada en 1942, recoge muchos elementos autobiográficos aunque no se atreviera a poner exactamente los nombres de las personas de su entorno; sin embargo, eran perfectamente distinguibles entre las historias que nos relata el autor como cuando se refiere a sus hermanas y a la situación de pobreza en la que subsistían, alentada por el abandono de su padre:
“Margaret –mi hermana mayor- y yo sobrevivíamos gracias a la caridad de los vecinos, mientras que mamá apenas probaba bocado. Así que la única que necesitaba verdaderos cuidados era Frankie. Por desgracia, la pequeña no podía alimentarse de las sobras ajenas y mamá tampoco podía amamantarla. A todo esto, solo nos quedaban cincuenta centavos.”
No es la infancia de Thompson una de esas “misery memoirs” ficcionales donde el protagonista es maltratado, violado, etc.., pero sí es bien cierto que la influencia de su padre fue muy negativa para el desarrollo de su personalidad y de su propia vida y lo podemos comprobar en el texto:
“¿Y qué? –me dije-. ¿Es que en algún momento fuiste feliz? ¿Es que alguna vez te sentiste en paz contigo mismo? Pues claro que no –me respondí-. Está clarísimo que no, nunca dejaste de sentirte habitante del infierno. La única diferencia es que ahora has caído un poco más bajo. Y vas a seguir deslizándote por la pendiente, porque eres igualito a tu padre. Eres tu propio padre, aunque careces de su determinación y su fuerza de voluntad. De aquí a un año o dos acabarán encerrándote igual que a él.”
También su obsesión por la escritura y las consecuencias de su mercantilización aparecerán en varias ocasiones a lo largo de la novela para mostrar las inseguridades de un escritor que tuvo que luchar mucho consigo mismo a la hora de crear:
“A mí me daba igual vender los derechos de la narración o no. De hecho, prefería que nadie la adquiriera. Sabía que si la vendía, me perseguirían para que escribiera un nuevo cuento por el estilo, cuento que sería todavía peor. Y la constante certeza de que me estaba dejando llevar por lo facilón bastaría para aniquilar en mí incluso ese último y débil afán de expresarme mediante la escritura.”
“-No sé cómo explicarlo –dije-. Lo más seguro es que nunca sea capaz de explicarme, ni aunque escriba un libro.”
Quizá el mayor logro sea ese diálogo hipotético que realiza con el padre fallecido durante todo un capítulo, hay aquí un presagio de esta lucha interior psicológica que le servirá para configurar a los Lou Ford y Nick Corey futuros; que ya tiene reminiscencias del desarrollo futuro de uno de sus temas más importantes: la escisión de la personalidad que tan bien analiza Polito en su biografía sobre el autor norteamericano:
“No estoy loco. No estoy ni asqueado ni furioso, quiero decir.
Solo estoy…
¿Cómo? ¿No puedes hablar un poco más alto, papá? Ya sé que siempre ha sido la costumbre… Pero aquí no hace falta que me hables en murmullos. Háblame con voz tonante, la misma que tanto efecto causaba en las salas del tribunal. Alza tu vozarrón como el estruendo que se eleva sobre el trueno de la perforadora de petróleo. Grita y ruge y golpea la mesa como si no pudieras porque le haremos una cara nueva a golpes, hasta dejarlo por muerto. Maldita sea su estampa.”
Como la mayoría de las primeras novelas, Thompson experimentó, buscaba su estilo y los temas que seguiría más adelante, se apoyó en los temas que vivía en primera persona para darle la estabilidad que necesitaba y conseguir una buena novela pero que todavía estaría lejos de sus grandes creaciones. Eso, sí es indudablemente interesante, a la luz de su biografía, para entender parte de vida del autor, imprescindible para entender el devenir de su literatura.
Los textos de estas dos obras provienen de la traducción del inglés de Antonio Padilla de “Libertad condicional”y “Aquí y ahora” de Jim Thompson para RBA.
Asesino-Burlon-Jim-ThompsonPara acabar, una obra, “Asesino Burlón” de la que solo tenemos una edición en España, la de Libro Amigo Policíaca de ediciones B del año 1988; una obra que no ha sido reeditada y es prácticamente inencontrable y donde encontramos una de sus cimas, sin lugar a dudas; encuadrada en su “época dorada” de creación y que entraría en la categoría de sus psicópatas a nivel de los ya mencionados de “Asesino dentro de mí” o “1280 almas”, la novela no solo se queda en esta caracterización psicológica que, ya de por sí, supone un logro; en las primeras páginas el propio Jim Thompson nos da pistas sobre lo “especial” que puede llegar a ser:
“-Bueno… sí –asentí-. Sí, es algo mío. Una especie de melodrama que estoy escribiendo en torno a los crímenes del Asesino Burlón. Supongo que confundirá por completo al lector de novelas policíacas, pero tal vez lo que necesita es precisamente que lo confundan. Quiza su sed de diversión lo lleve al terrible trabajo de pensar.”
Clinton Brown, el periodista del Clarion, es el epítome de psicópata que tan bien desarrolló Thompson, “la enfermedad” de Lou Ford en esta ocasión es un “doble sentido”, el juego de dicotomías refleja a la perfección este doble sentido, esta división de la personalidad que altera a nuestro protagonista; de fondo, como en otras obras, la guerra y más concretamente, la castración, con unas connotaciones ciertamente esclarecedoras:
“En ese momento estaba comenzando a sentir ese peculiar doble sentido que se me había manifestado con creciente intensidad y frecuencia en los últimos meses. Era una mezcla de calma y ansiedad, de resignación y rechazo furioso. Simultáneamente, yo deseaba emprenderla a golpes contra todo y no hacer absolutamente nada.”
El caso es que el propio Clinton (Brownie para los conocidos) ve en Lem Stukey, el jefe de detectives su “doppelganger”, ese contrario que es la extensión inconsciente de su personalidad escindida, “un hijo de puta” en sus propias palabras:
“Tal vez esté equivocado –me he equivocado con tantas cosas-, pero no recuerdo haber oído hablar jamás o conocido a un hijo de puta que no se las arreglara perfectamente bien. Estoy hablando, entiéndase bien, de verdaderos hijos de puta. De la variedad A, de doble destilación y calentada al vapor. Coges a un hombre así, un hijo de puta que no lucha contra ello –que sabe lo que es y se entrega de cuerpo y alma- y realmente tienes algo. Mejor dicho, él tiene algo. Él tiene todas las cosas que tú no puedes tener, como recompensa por no ser un hijo de puta. Por no ser como Lem Stukey, el jefe de Detectives del Departamento de Policía de Pacific City.”
Como comentaba anteriormente, esa castración, ocasionada por las consecuencias de la guerra le llevará a elegir entre sus víctimas a tres mujeres,; a la hora de matar a su exesposa seguimos comprobando, en una escena cargada de violencia, la caracterización de la personalidad de Clinton, esta vez unida al mayor vicio de Thompson, el alcohol:
“-No –dije-. No puedes y no lo harás.
Y estrellé la botella contra su cabeza.
Me quedé mirándola, mientras mi cabeza navegaba y yo me tambaleaba lentamente sobre mis pies. La humedad y el esfuerzo y la larga conversación me estaban desembriagando, y cuando estoy sereno me emborracho. Más borracho de lo que podría ponerme cualquier cantidad de whisky.”
Según va cometiendo asesinatos, va perdiendo el sentimiento de culpa ante las consecuencias de sus actos; la desesperación de sus actos perturbados le llevará a justificar sus actos de la manera más infame; su desequilibrio le lleva a crear un mundo de acuerdo a sus ideas, un mundo inconscientemente influido por el trauma de su castración:
“El problema me perturbaba solo de una manera muy lejana: bueno-debería-sentirme-avergonzado. En realidad, no sentía ninguna culpa. Con Ellen sí. Lo lamentaba sinceramente en el caso de Ellen. Y, ciertamente, lo sentía mucho más en el caso de Deborah. Pero no me asaltaba ningún remordimiento en el caso de Constance. Ella no hubiese continuado viviendo como ellas lo hubieran hecho, de no mediar mi intervención. En Constance no había vida, solo flema y avaricia, ¿y cómo se puede quitar la vida cuando no existe?”
En este mundo nada es lo que parece, el sorprendente final, del que no hablaré, nos revela la subversión de la propuesta, lo enrevesado de la situación, ese maestro que es el gran Jim Thompson en una de sus propuestas más arriesgadas y posiblemente peor entendidas.
Los textos provienen de la traducción del inglés de Gerardo Di Masso para “Asesino Burlón” de Jim Thompson.
Una recopilación de novelas de Jim Thompson. La escisión de la identidad
Aprovechando que acabo de terminar la biografía del escritor norteamericano, una joya de la que tendréis noticias en este blog en no mucho tiempo; se me ocurrió la posibilidad de hacer un pequeño monográfico con las obras que me quedaban por leer del escritor; ha valido mucho la pena, sobre todo porque gracias al análisis de la biografía, es indudable que ayudan a disfrutarlas mucho más.
La primera de ellas ha sido la última que ha sacado RBA en su serie negra, “Libertad Condicional”, obra encuadrada históricamente tras el que fue su primer gran éxito, esa obra maestra que es “El asesino dentro de mí”, esta influencia y la atracción del cine serán decisivas en el resultado final.
Partiendo de una buena idea, se nos presenta un presidio, Sandstone, donde el convicto Pat Cosgrove malvive, pero que, sin embargo, verá la posibilidad de salir gracias a la ayuda aparentemente desinteresada de Doc Luther, obteniendo la libertad condicional para trabajar con él, librándolo de un verdadero infierno:
“Luther creía estar acostumbrado a las aberraciones. Pero con Sandstone era imposible no escandalizarse. Sandstone no era una cárcel. Era una casa de locos en la que quien estaba loco era el director, y no los inquilinos. En Sandstone tan sólo había una forma de sobrevivir: llegar a ser más duro y más retorcido que el propio director. Si lo hacías -si conseguías caerle en gracia al hombre con los ojos extraordinariamente brillantes y la risa impredecible-, no sólo sobrevivías, sino que lo hacías con relativa comodidad. “
Es evidente, para nosotros, los lectores, que salir en estas condiciones tiene que tener un precio, pero el plan de Doc Luther no es evidente; es la espera, esa potencial amenaza, la que sostiene la narración. Según avanza, la desconfianza de Cosgrove será cada vez mayor:
“-¿Y no conocía nada a esa persona que le consiguió su libertad condicional… Que la compró por así decirlo?
-Exacto.
-Pues tiene usted razón, señor Cosgrove. Tiene motivos más que sobrados para desconfiar. A esa persona le hubiera resultado igual de barato y fácil conseguir que le concedieran el indulto. Con el indulto, usted podría haberse ido donde quisiera… Lejos de la periferia de su benefactor. Esa persona no tiene nada de benefactor. Esa persona no tiene nada de filántropa.”
No faltarán mujeres fatales, dobles juegos, traiciones… que llevarán a desentrañar la trama final desde el punto de vista de Cosgrove, verdadero narrador (excepto en el capítulo inicial que narra Luther) y afectado por los acontecimientos. Thompson no era un dechado de virtudes a la hora de plantear las tramas, la resolución resulta farragosa; el final feliz, desacostumbrado en el caso de Thompson, estuvo muy influenciado por la querencia del autor por conseguir un contrato con Hollywood para alguna de sus novelas. Aprovechar el éxito de su anterior novela parecía una buena oportunidad. La pena es que la novela se resiente mucho por esta circunstancia.
aqui_y_ahora_300x459“Aquí y ahora” fue la ópera prima del autor; publicada en 1942, recoge muchos elementos autobiográficos aunque no se atreviera a poner exactamente los nombres de las personas de su entorno; sin embargo, eran perfectamente distinguibles entre las historias que nos relata el autor como cuando se refiere a sus hermanas y a la situación de pobreza en la que subsistían, alentada por el abandono de su padre:
“Margaret –mi hermana mayor- y yo sobrevivíamos gracias a la caridad de los vecinos, mientras que mamá apenas probaba bocado. Así que la única que necesitaba verdaderos cuidados era Frankie. Por desgracia, la pequeña no podía alimentarse de las sobras ajenas y mamá tampoco podía amamantarla. A todo esto, solo nos quedaban cincuenta centavos.”
No es la infancia de Thompson una de esas “misery memoirs” ficcionales donde el protagonista es maltratado, violado, etc.., pero sí es bien cierto que la influencia de su padre fue muy negativa para el desarrollo de su personalidad y de su propia vida y lo podemos comprobar en el texto:
“¿Y qué? –me dije-. ¿Es que en algún momento fuiste feliz? ¿Es que alguna vez te sentiste en paz contigo mismo? Pues claro que no –me respondí-. Está clarísimo que no, nunca dejaste de sentirte habitante del infierno. La única diferencia es que ahora has caído un poco más bajo. Y vas a seguir deslizándote por la pendiente, porque eres igualito a tu padre. Eres tu propio padre, aunque careces de su determinación y su fuerza de voluntad. De aquí a un año o dos acabarán encerrándote igual que a él.”
También su obsesión por la escritura y las consecuencias de su mercantilización aparecerán en varias ocasiones a lo largo de la novela para mostrar las inseguridades de un escritor que tuvo que luchar mucho consigo mismo a la hora de crear:
“A mí me daba igual vender los derechos de la narración o no. De hecho, prefería que nadie la adquiriera. Sabía que si la vendía, me perseguirían para que escribiera un nuevo cuento por el estilo, cuento que sería todavía peor. Y la constante certeza de que me estaba dejando llevar por lo facilón bastaría para aniquilar en mí incluso ese último y débil afán de expresarme mediante la escritura.”
“-No sé cómo explicarlo –dije-. Lo más seguro es que nunca sea capaz de explicarme, ni aunque escriba un libro.”
Quizá el mayor logro sea ese diálogo hipotético que realiza con el padre fallecido durante todo un capítulo, hay aquí un presagio de esta lucha interior psicológica que le servirá para configurar a los Lou Ford y Nick Corey futuros; que ya tiene reminiscencias del desarrollo futuro de uno de sus temas más importantes: la escisión de la personalidad que tan bien analiza Polito en su biografía sobre el autor norteamericano:
“No estoy loco. No estoy ni asqueado ni furioso, quiero decir.
Solo estoy…
¿Cómo? ¿No puedes hablar un poco más alto, papá? Ya sé que siempre ha sido la costumbre… Pero aquí no hace falta que me hables en murmullos. Háblame con voz tonante, la misma que tanto efecto causaba en las salas del tribunal. Alza tu vozarrón como el estruendo que se eleva sobre el trueno de la perforadora de petróleo. Grita y ruge y golpea la mesa como si no pudieras porque le haremos una cara nueva a golpes, hasta dejarlo por muerto. Maldita sea su estampa.”
Como la mayoría de las primeras novelas, Thompson experimentó, buscaba su estilo y los temas que seguiría más adelante, se apoyó en los temas que vivía en primera persona para darle la estabilidad que necesitaba y conseguir una buena novela pero que todavía estaría lejos de sus grandes creaciones. Eso, sí es indudablemente interesante, a la luz de su biografía, para entender parte de vida del autor, imprescindible para entender el devenir de su literatura.
Los textos de estas dos obras provienen de la traducción del inglés de Antonio Padilla de “Libertad condicional”y “Aquí y ahora” de Jim Thompson para RBA.
Asesino-Burlon-Jim-ThompsonPara acabar, una obra, “Asesino Burlón” de la que solo tenemos una edición en España, la de Libro Amigo Policíaca de ediciones B del año 1988; una obra que no ha sido reeditada y es prácticamente inencontrable y donde encontramos una de sus cimas, sin lugar a dudas; encuadrada en su “época dorada” de creación y que entraría en la categoría de sus psicópatas a nivel de los ya mencionados de “Asesino dentro de mí” o “1280 almas”, la novela no solo se queda en esta caracterización psicológica que, ya de por sí, supone un logro; en las primeras páginas el propio Jim Thompson nos da pistas sobre lo “especial” que puede llegar a ser:
“-Bueno… sí –asentí-. Sí, es algo mío. Una especie de melodrama que estoy escribiendo en torno a los crímenes del Asesino Burlón. Supongo que confundirá por completo al lector de novelas policíacas, pero tal vez lo que necesita es precisamente que lo confundan. Quiza su sed de diversión lo lleve al terrible trabajo de pensar.”
Clinton Brown, el periodista del Clarion, es el epítome de psicópata que tan bien desarrolló Thompson, “la enfermedad” de Lou Ford en esta ocasión es un “doble sentido”, el juego de dicotomías refleja a la perfección este doble sentido, esta división de la personalidad que altera a nuestro protagonista; de fondo, como en otras obras, la guerra y más concretamente, la castración, con unas connotaciones ciertamente esclarecedoras:
“En ese momento estaba comenzando a sentir ese peculiar doble sentido que se me había manifestado con creciente intensidad y frecuencia en los últimos meses. Era una mezcla de calma y ansiedad, de resignación y rechazo furioso. Simultáneamente, yo deseaba emprenderla a golpes contra todo y no hacer absolutamente nada.”
El caso es que el propio Clinton (Brownie para los conocidos) ve en Lem Stukey, el jefe de detectives su “doppelganger”, ese contrario que es la extensión inconsciente de su personalidad escindida, “un hijo de puta” en sus propias palabras:
“Tal vez esté equivocado –me he equivocado con tantas cosas-, pero no recuerdo haber oído hablar jamás o conocido a un hijo de puta que no se las arreglara perfectamente bien. Estoy hablando, entiéndase bien, de verdaderos hijos de puta. De la variedad A, de doble destilación y calentada al vapor. Coges a un hombre así, un hijo de puta que no lucha contra ello –que sabe lo que es y se entrega de cuerpo y alma- y realmente tienes algo. Mejor dicho, él tiene algo. Él tiene todas las cosas que tú no puedes tener, como recompensa por no ser un hijo de puta. Por no ser como Lem Stukey, el jefe de Detectives del Departamento de Policía de Pacific City.”
Como comentaba anteriormente, esa castración, ocasionada por las consecuencias de la guerra le llevará a elegir entre sus víctimas a tres mujeres,; a la hora de matar a su exesposa seguimos comprobando, en una escena cargada de violencia, la caracterización de la personalidad de Clinton, esta vez unida al mayor vicio de Thompson, el alcohol:
“-No –dije-. No puedes y no lo harás.
Y estrellé la botella contra su cabeza.
Me quedé mirándola, mientras mi cabeza navegaba y yo me tambaleaba lentamente sobre mis pies. La humedad y el esfuerzo y la larga conversación me estaban desembriagando, y cuando estoy sereno me emborracho. Más borracho de lo que podría ponerme cualquier cantidad de whisky.”
Según va cometiendo asesinatos, va perdiendo el sentimiento de culpa ante las consecuencias de sus actos; la desesperación de sus actos perturbados le llevará a justificar sus actos de la manera más infame; su desequilibrio le lleva a crear un mundo de acuerdo a sus ideas, un mundo inconscientemente influido por el trauma de su castración:
“El problema me perturbaba solo de una manera muy lejana: bueno-debería-sentirme-avergonzado. En realidad, no sentía ninguna culpa. Con Ellen sí. Lo lamentaba sinceramente en el caso de Ellen. Y, ciertamente, lo sentía mucho más en el caso de Deborah. Pero no me asaltaba ningún remordimiento en el caso de Constance. Ella no hubiese continuado viviendo como ellas lo hubieran hecho, de no mediar mi intervención. En Constance no había vida, solo flema y avaricia, ¿y cómo se puede quitar la vida cuando no existe?”
En este mundo nada es lo que parece, el sorprendente final, del que no hablaré, nos revela la subversión de la propuesta, lo enrevesado de la situación, ese maestro que es el gran Jim Thompson en una de sus propuestas más arriesgadas y posiblemente peor entendidas.
Los textos provienen de la traducción del inglés de Gerardo Di Masso para “Asesino Burlón” de Jim Thompson.
March 19, 2019
If they accumulate a catalog of work large enough, every author/artist will have what are considered to be "lesser works." And while occasionally, there's a hidden gem buried in there or something that appeals specifically to the client, they're called "lesser works" for a reason.
I know a lot about Jim Thompson's life and works but I didn't know that Now And On Earth is 1. a semi-autobiography and 2. his very first book. It shows. We have an author with talent who doesn't quite know what to do with it so he retells his family story in fictional form (Thompson did this more effectively in Bad Boy.).
And it's just not an interesting story. For the first part, I thought Thompson was trying to do some sort of symbolic retelling of a man dwelling in hell because Dillon, his main character, certainly seemed like he was in it, being stuck in a low paying job he hates while trying to support a family that he also seems to hate. But unlike other great Thompson novels, there's not the ribbon of crime to tie a bow on this story. There are some criminal elements but it's not really what he's emphasizing and when it comes together near the end, I was too exhausted to care.
While has moments of existential greatness, particularly in one scene with Dillon and his daughter that I won't forget (as well as another dig at his father, which seems to be Thompson's favorite thing), there's just not much here to hold the reader's attention. The main character is a tool and not an interesting one at that who hates everything, somewhat understandably but not enough to make him an interesting read. This is only for Thompson completists such as myself.
I know a lot about Jim Thompson's life and works but I didn't know that Now And On Earth is 1. a semi-autobiography and 2. his very first book. It shows. We have an author with talent who doesn't quite know what to do with it so he retells his family story in fictional form (Thompson did this more effectively in Bad Boy.).
And it's just not an interesting story. For the first part, I thought Thompson was trying to do some sort of symbolic retelling of a man dwelling in hell because Dillon, his main character, certainly seemed like he was in it, being stuck in a low paying job he hates while trying to support a family that he also seems to hate. But unlike other great Thompson novels, there's not the ribbon of crime to tie a bow on this story. There are some criminal elements but it's not really what he's emphasizing and when it comes together near the end, I was too exhausted to care.
While has moments of existential greatness, particularly in one scene with Dillon and his daughter that I won't forget (as well as another dig at his father, which seems to be Thompson's favorite thing), there's just not much here to hold the reader's attention. The main character is a tool and not an interesting one at that who hates everything, somewhat understandably but not enough to make him an interesting read. This is only for Thompson completists such as myself.
March 1, 2018
Have read a few other novels by Thompson and this one is different from them all. This is not a crime novel at all. More of Thompson channeling Grapes of Wrath. All of the characters are a bit pathetic, just like real people. It's well written except for the laggy parts where our protagonist goes into detail about his mind-numbing job. I know this is all practically autobiographic; makes you wonder what actually happened or where the reality and the story diverge. Makes me look forward more to reading more of the crime novels.
January 5, 2022
I purchased a paperback copy of this book because Stephen King wrote the introduction. I got so caught up in the introduction that I just kept reading. It’s a good story about day-to-day life with all its complications, obligations, and humiliations. But it’s not depressing. It reminded me a lot of Tabitha King’s novel, “The Book of Reuben”.
July 25, 2020
Wonderful writing. The existential drama of an American family with all of the Thompson's genius and humour.
March 21, 2023
Typically gritty Thompson
February 19, 2025
The last 25% was pretty interesting, but went nowhere and wasn't worth the Wait For It. Not by a long shot.
February 7, 2020
Durante il 2019 mi sono concentrata principalmente su libri fantasy ma, appena ho letto della possibilità di leggere questo libro in anteprima, ho voluto subito fiondarmici per iniziare a leggere anche di altri generi in questo 2020. Come sempre ringrazio Ylenia di Cronache di lettrici accanite per aver organizzato l’evento e la HarperCollins per aver fornito la copia.
La storia, ho scoperto solo a fine lettura, è autobiografica. In questo suo romanzo d’esordio Jim Thompson veste i panni di James Dillon per poter raccontare e raccontarsi. Possiamo vedere uno scorcio dell’America del 1942 e le difficoltà del periodo. La cosa che però più mi ha catturata e meravigliata di questo libro è la forza, la crudezza nel suo aspetto psicologico che davvero ci si rimane senza parole. Ci sono momenti in cui ci sono dei lunghi flussi di coscienza che veramente sono un qualcosa di eccezionale e che sono anche la cosa che più mi ha catturata di questo libro. Anche perché l’aspetto psicologico è una parte fondamentale del romanzo, in quanto tratta anche di reali problemi psicologici, del rapporto padre/figlio e delle difficoltà che si hanno vivendo con una famiglia allargata in una casa modesta.
Può sembrare assurdo come paragone ma ciò che andiamo a leggere è a tutti gli effetti vita di tutti giorni ma non del tipo “mi sono svegliato, sono andato a lavoro è stata dura, sono tornato a casa e sono andato a dormire” non potrebbe, davvero, essere qualcosa di più lontano da ciò perché il ritmo della narrazione è incalzante, coinvolgente e assolutamente non fa annoiare. Magari un libro simile a questo ma raccontato diversamente e con meno enfasi nel fattore psicologico non mi sarebbe piaciuto, anzi mi avrebbe fatto annoiare ma questo .. è davvero difficile descriverlo perché è semplicemente un impatto di emozioni, emozioni che prova lo stesso protagonista quindi angoscia, rabbia, frustrazione e via dicendo. Per capire un romanzo come questo bisogna soltanto leggerlo.
Io mi trovo assolutamente a consigliarlo con 4 stelline.
La storia, ho scoperto solo a fine lettura, è autobiografica. In questo suo romanzo d’esordio Jim Thompson veste i panni di James Dillon per poter raccontare e raccontarsi. Possiamo vedere uno scorcio dell’America del 1942 e le difficoltà del periodo. La cosa che però più mi ha catturata e meravigliata di questo libro è la forza, la crudezza nel suo aspetto psicologico che davvero ci si rimane senza parole. Ci sono momenti in cui ci sono dei lunghi flussi di coscienza che veramente sono un qualcosa di eccezionale e che sono anche la cosa che più mi ha catturata di questo libro. Anche perché l’aspetto psicologico è una parte fondamentale del romanzo, in quanto tratta anche di reali problemi psicologici, del rapporto padre/figlio e delle difficoltà che si hanno vivendo con una famiglia allargata in una casa modesta.
Può sembrare assurdo come paragone ma ciò che andiamo a leggere è a tutti gli effetti vita di tutti giorni ma non del tipo “mi sono svegliato, sono andato a lavoro è stata dura, sono tornato a casa e sono andato a dormire” non potrebbe, davvero, essere qualcosa di più lontano da ciò perché il ritmo della narrazione è incalzante, coinvolgente e assolutamente non fa annoiare. Magari un libro simile a questo ma raccontato diversamente e con meno enfasi nel fattore psicologico non mi sarebbe piaciuto, anzi mi avrebbe fatto annoiare ma questo .. è davvero difficile descriverlo perché è semplicemente un impatto di emozioni, emozioni che prova lo stesso protagonista quindi angoscia, rabbia, frustrazione e via dicendo. Per capire un romanzo come questo bisogna soltanto leggerlo.
Io mi trovo assolutamente a consigliarlo con 4 stelline.
May 15, 2022
An interesting book that transports the reader to an unusual and overlooked place and time: James Dillon is a young father and failed writer battling alcoholism while struggling to hold down a job at an airplane factory in San Diego in the early days of WWII. The book definitely has a bit of "first book" syndrome, Jim Thompson seems to have included all sorts of autobiographical and near-autobiographical details, and the book is packed to the rafters, with everything from flashbacks to working as a bellhop in Prohibition-era Oklahoma and the working out of lingering childhood psychological issues (including an imagined dialogue with a dead father) to a synopsis of a Robert Heinlein's 1941 short story "They," as well as pages dedicated to the quotidian frustrations of working in a factory (with more details about parts management systems than you would ever have expected to (or hoped to) ever see in a novel).
But the devil is in these details, the depiction of life on the edge of ruin and madness is very rich and believable. The novel comes most to life in the neo-realist depiction of the frustrations, squalor, and occasional moments of joy in Dillon's family life, it is his position as a father, husband, and son which makes this stand out from the pack. The Dillon family is struggling, always on the verge of a crack-up, and living from paycheck-to-paycheck and meal-to-meal. There's everything from sexual tensions to what we would now definitely consider to be child abuse on display, and this feels very true and terrifying, while retaining a much-needed glimmer of hope.
This book can be occasionally difficult for a contemporary reader to follow, the milieu is a bit distant and, and the writer frequently uses euphemisms, elisions, and suggestion in the place of detailing subjects that were still quite taboo at the moment, like prostitution, abortion, and illegal drugs, meaning you have to read between the lines. Overall a very satisfying read that doesn't amaze, but does shed life on a vanished world and makes me want to read more of Thompson's work.
But the devil is in these details, the depiction of life on the edge of ruin and madness is very rich and believable. The novel comes most to life in the neo-realist depiction of the frustrations, squalor, and occasional moments of joy in Dillon's family life, it is his position as a father, husband, and son which makes this stand out from the pack. The Dillon family is struggling, always on the verge of a crack-up, and living from paycheck-to-paycheck and meal-to-meal. There's everything from sexual tensions to what we would now definitely consider to be child abuse on display, and this feels very true and terrifying, while retaining a much-needed glimmer of hope.
This book can be occasionally difficult for a contemporary reader to follow, the milieu is a bit distant and, and the writer frequently uses euphemisms, elisions, and suggestion in the place of detailing subjects that were still quite taboo at the moment, like prostitution, abortion, and illegal drugs, meaning you have to read between the lines. Overall a very satisfying read that doesn't amaze, but does shed life on a vanished world and makes me want to read more of Thompson's work.
January 26, 2022
Sono dell’idea che ci siano almeno otto tipologie di libro.
Quello che ti prende subito e che ti fa innamorare un modo sconvolgente;
Quello che ingrana dopo alcune pagine e che si fa voler bene;
Quello che continui a leggere senza un motivo, e che alla fine ti far capire di aver letto qualcosa di bello;
Quello che non avresti dovuto leggere in quel momento, perché nessuno dei due era pronto;
Quello che non capisci più, a causa dell’età superata;
Quello simpatico ma che si fa dimenticare subito;
Quello che non è bello ma che ti fa incazzare così tanto da spingerti a cercare di interagire con altri, per trovare una quadra;
Quello che è oggettivamente brutto.
Poi c’è la nona categoria, che vedo assai di rado.
Un libro che non ha senso.
Questa nona tipologia, nel mio caso non è comune, e racchiude tutti quei libri che non danno. Vuoi che sia una spiegazione, vuoi che sia una motivazione, sono storie senza capo ne coda.
---Continua su Red Kedi---
https://redkedi.it/2020/02/inferno-su...
Quello che ti prende subito e che ti fa innamorare un modo sconvolgente;
Quello che ingrana dopo alcune pagine e che si fa voler bene;
Quello che continui a leggere senza un motivo, e che alla fine ti far capire di aver letto qualcosa di bello;
Quello che non avresti dovuto leggere in quel momento, perché nessuno dei due era pronto;
Quello che non capisci più, a causa dell’età superata;
Quello simpatico ma che si fa dimenticare subito;
Quello che non è bello ma che ti fa incazzare così tanto da spingerti a cercare di interagire con altri, per trovare una quadra;
Quello che è oggettivamente brutto.
Poi c’è la nona categoria, che vedo assai di rado.
Un libro che non ha senso.
Questa nona tipologia, nel mio caso non è comune, e racchiude tutti quei libri che non danno. Vuoi che sia una spiegazione, vuoi che sia una motivazione, sono storie senza capo ne coda.
---Continua su Red Kedi---
https://redkedi.it/2020/02/inferno-su...
November 5, 2024
At some point in American literature we realized that our concept of "working class" weren't the same one as our European and Russian and Asian counterparts. There was a coat of consumer culture across all of it where we were asked to buy what we also produce. Then there was the military industrial complex which is where we meet James Dillon in Jim Thompson's debut novel, Now and On Earth. As he struggles with the contentious atmosphere of his house and family he also appears to have issues getting his writing off the ground. Like all beginning authors you cull from life where Thompson would go on to create the grittier of hardboiled fiction. For now he's looking down the nicotine-choked, bourbon-saturated asphalt back alleys of bottom-end living. Back when there was at least a middle class to aspire to.
February 18, 2017
This was Thompson's first novel but it reads more like a thinly-veiled memoir and a far better one than Bad Boy, which was written a decade later. I think it probably helps to read the bulk of Thompson's work before this first, as I did, because this certainly isn't representative of his style as a whole. What we have here is a slice-of-life narrative without much of a plot or shape that nevertheless provides fascinating detail about working in a production plant during wartime San Diego. As a novel this is hardly a great success, but it is certainly of interest to Thompson's fans and/or those looking for period detail.
December 27, 2025
Es ligero de leer hasta cierto punto, no hay una trama como tal y el protagonista es un horror; comienza con estos pensamientos pasivo-agresivos y termina directamente pensando en cómo le quiere pegar a su mujer (?)
Odio a los hombres, a todos los que salen en este libro, hay escenas que no entiendo qué hacen allí… una parte de mí piensa que era la época y lo que estaba normalizado, pero por otro lado hay cosas que también son problemáticas actuales como el aborto y el estrés por el trabajo…
Odio a los hombres, a todos los que salen en este libro, hay escenas que no entiendo qué hacen allí… una parte de mí piensa que era la época y lo que estaba normalizado, pero por otro lado hay cosas que también son problemáticas actuales como el aborto y el estrés por el trabajo…
October 3, 2017
Me gusta mucho la capacidad del autor de usar muchas palabras para contar pocas cosas y que pese a ello te enganche y te embajone tanto.
Más allá del estilo, la historia no me ha aportado nada especial, quizá por ese tono autobiográfico y ese rollo de escritor escribiendo sobre problemas de escritores que me cansa un poco.
Seguro que otras de sus novelas me gustarán más.
Más allá del estilo, la historia no me ha aportado nada especial, quizá por ese tono autobiográfico y ese rollo de escritor escribiendo sobre problemas de escritores que me cansa un poco.
Seguro que otras de sus novelas me gustarán más.
July 11, 2025
A bleak but darkly funny slice of life drama about a working class alcoholic, struggling to provide for his extended parasitic family, while trying to understand his place in the world.
I absolutely tore through this in a couple of sittings such is the quality of Thompson’s prose and ability to engage the reader.
I absolutely tore through this in a couple of sittings such is the quality of Thompson’s prose and ability to engage the reader.
June 24, 2019
Jim Thompson's first novel. Semi-autobiographical story of a writer with a large extended family and burgeoning addictions who takes a job in a defense plant, in the early days of WWII, His talent is all there, but the novel is all over the place.
October 17, 2019
"just goes to show you how life isn't different from a factory worker in the US to a factory worker in Russia and how the struggle to be an individual indifferent to the worlds' issues is the true struggle in life."
April 15, 2023
I'd heard that Jim Thompson was a good author so I tried this book. I managed nearly a third without it getting any better and it was uniformly awful and down beat. I have thousands of other books I want to read so am finished wasting my time with this trash.
June 19, 2017
A gritty old noir story that will chill and mesmerize. I love Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammet and all, but this guy can hang with the best.
December 11, 2018
Just never could get into this book. Maybe it was the season or other time-pressures, but I couldn't find any interest in the story line. Maybe another time?
April 4, 2025
Continues the "autobiography" begun in "Bad Boy" and "Rough Neck." By far the weakest of the three. Downright awful in some parts, but excellent in others.
August 31, 2023
“Inferno sulla Terra” di Jim Thompson pag. 302
Questo è il libro d’esordio di Jim Thompson, pubblicato per la prima volta nel 1942 ed ambientato durante la seconda guerra mondiale.
Il protagonista è Jimmie Dillon, uno scrittore fallito e alcolizzato, sopraffatto dalle circostanze: difficoltà economiche, un blocco dello scrittore che sembra essere permanente, una famiglia che lo opprime e che complica le cose ed un lavoro che non gli piace e sopporta a stento ma che gli permette di mantenere la famiglia.
Nel libro si assiste al tracollo mentale del protagonista che racconta in prima persona la storia, affrontando il rapporto di amore-odio per la sua famiglia.
Jim, il protagonista, potrebbe essere l’autore stesso, quindi questo romanzo potrebbe essere considerato autobiografico.
Un romanzo lento, che pian piano avanza senza grossi colpi di scena. Ammetto di aver avuto non poche difficoltà nel procedere con la lettura combattendo la voglia di abbandonare, credo di non aver mai letto un romanzo del genere, non trovo niente a cui poterlo paragonare.
I temi forti e il pessimismo che sono presenti in tutto il libro temo non siano stati molto apprezzati al momento della pubblicazione. In questo libro sono raccontati in modo schietto e cruento, forse per la prima volta, la famiglia percepita come entità malata, la profonda critica al sogno americano e il lato oscuro e psicotico presente anche nel più normale degli americani.
L’oscurità, se così si può definire, non appare solamente a tratti ma ne è la colonna portante: la vita precaria, la fatica ad arrivare a fine mese e l’impossibilità a trovare qualcosa di buono in ciò che accade intorno a noi.
Questo è il libro d’esordio di Jim Thompson, pubblicato per la prima volta nel 1942 ed ambientato durante la seconda guerra mondiale.
Il protagonista è Jimmie Dillon, uno scrittore fallito e alcolizzato, sopraffatto dalle circostanze: difficoltà economiche, un blocco dello scrittore che sembra essere permanente, una famiglia che lo opprime e che complica le cose ed un lavoro che non gli piace e sopporta a stento ma che gli permette di mantenere la famiglia.
Nel libro si assiste al tracollo mentale del protagonista che racconta in prima persona la storia, affrontando il rapporto di amore-odio per la sua famiglia.
Jim, il protagonista, potrebbe essere l’autore stesso, quindi questo romanzo potrebbe essere considerato autobiografico.
Un romanzo lento, che pian piano avanza senza grossi colpi di scena. Ammetto di aver avuto non poche difficoltà nel procedere con la lettura combattendo la voglia di abbandonare, credo di non aver mai letto un romanzo del genere, non trovo niente a cui poterlo paragonare.
I temi forti e il pessimismo che sono presenti in tutto il libro temo non siano stati molto apprezzati al momento della pubblicazione. In questo libro sono raccontati in modo schietto e cruento, forse per la prima volta, la famiglia percepita come entità malata, la profonda critica al sogno americano e il lato oscuro e psicotico presente anche nel più normale degli americani.
L’oscurità, se così si può definire, non appare solamente a tratti ma ne è la colonna portante: la vita precaria, la fatica ad arrivare a fine mese e l’impossibilità a trovare qualcosa di buono in ciò che accade intorno a noi.
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