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Eugene Tarpon #1
No Room at the Morgue
Inspired by the works of Dashiell Hammett, No Room at the Morgue is Jean-Patrick Manchette's unparalleled take on the private eye novel -- fierce, politically inflected, and finely rendered by the haunting, pitch-black prose for which the author is famed.
No Room at the Morgue came out after Jean-Patrick Manchette had transformed French crime fiction with such brilliantly plotted, politically charged, unrelentingly violent tales as Nada and The Mad and the Bad. Here, inspired by his love of Dashiell Hammett, Manchette introduces Eugene Tarpon, private eye, a sometime cop who has set up shop after being kicked off the force for accidentally killing a political demonstrator. Months have passed, and Tarpon desultorily tries to keep in shape while drinking all the time. No one has shown up at the door of his office in the midst of the market district of Les Halles. Then the bell rings and a beautiful woman bursts in, her hands dripping blood. It's Memphis Charles, her roommate's throat has been cut, and Memphis can't go to the police because they'll only suspect her. Can Tarpon help?
Well, somehow he can't help trying. Soon bodies mount, and the craziness only grows.
No Room at the Morgue came out after Jean-Patrick Manchette had transformed French crime fiction with such brilliantly plotted, politically charged, unrelentingly violent tales as Nada and The Mad and the Bad. Here, inspired by his love of Dashiell Hammett, Manchette introduces Eugene Tarpon, private eye, a sometime cop who has set up shop after being kicked off the force for accidentally killing a political demonstrator. Months have passed, and Tarpon desultorily tries to keep in shape while drinking all the time. No one has shown up at the door of his office in the midst of the market district of Les Halles. Then the bell rings and a beautiful woman bursts in, her hands dripping blood. It's Memphis Charles, her roommate's throat has been cut, and Memphis can't go to the police because they'll only suspect her. Can Tarpon help?
Well, somehow he can't help trying. Soon bodies mount, and the craziness only grows.
192 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1973
53 people are currently reading
1641 people want to read
About the author
Jean-Patrick Manchette
66 books320 followersJean-Patrick Manchette was a French crime novelist credited with reinventing and reinvigorating the genre. He wrote ten short novels in the seventies and early eighties, and is widely recognized as the foremost French crime fiction author of the 1970s - 1980s . His stories are violent, existentialist explorations of the human condition and French society.
Manchette was politically to the left and his writing reflects this through his analysis of social positions and culture. His books are reminiscent of the nouvelle vague crime films of Jean-Pierre Melville, employing a similarly cool, existential style on a typically American genre (film noir for Melville and pulp novels for Manchette).
Three of his novels have been translated into English. Two were published by San Francisco publisher City Lights Books (3 To Kill [from the French "Le petit bleu de la côte ouest"] and The Prone Gunman [from the French "La Position du tireur couché"]). A third, Fatale, was released by New York Review Books Classics in 2011.
Manchette believed he had gone full circle with his last novel, which he conceived as a "closure" of his Noir fiction. In a 1988 letter to a journalist, Manchette said:
" After that, as I did not have to belong to any kind of literary school, I entered a very different work area. In seven years, I have not done anything good. I'm still working at it."
In 1989, finally having found new territory he wanted to explore, Manchette started writing a new novel, La Princesse du Sang" ("Blood Princess"), an international thriller, which was supposed to be the first book in a new cycle, a series of novels covering five decades from the post-war period to present times. He died from cancer before completing it.
Starting in 1996, a year after Manchette's death, several unpublished works were released, showing how very active he was during in the years preceding his death.
In 2009, Fantagraphics Books released an English-language version of French cartoonist Jacques Tardi's adaptation of Le petit bleu, under the new English title 'West Coast Blues.' Fantagraphics released a second Tardi adaptation, of "La Position du tireur couché" (under the title "Like a Sniper Lining Up His Shot" ) in the summer of 2011, and has scheduled a third one, of "Ô Dingos! Ô Châteaux!" (under the title "Run Like Crazy Run Like Hell") in summer 2014. Manchette himself was a fan of comics, and his praised translation of Alan Moore's Watchmen into French remains in print.
Manchette was politically to the left and his writing reflects this through his analysis of social positions and culture. His books are reminiscent of the nouvelle vague crime films of Jean-Pierre Melville, employing a similarly cool, existential style on a typically American genre (film noir for Melville and pulp novels for Manchette).
Three of his novels have been translated into English. Two were published by San Francisco publisher City Lights Books (3 To Kill [from the French "Le petit bleu de la côte ouest"] and The Prone Gunman [from the French "La Position du tireur couché"]). A third, Fatale, was released by New York Review Books Classics in 2011.
Manchette believed he had gone full circle with his last novel, which he conceived as a "closure" of his Noir fiction. In a 1988 letter to a journalist, Manchette said:
" After that, as I did not have to belong to any kind of literary school, I entered a very different work area. In seven years, I have not done anything good. I'm still working at it."
In 1989, finally having found new territory he wanted to explore, Manchette started writing a new novel, La Princesse du Sang" ("Blood Princess"), an international thriller, which was supposed to be the first book in a new cycle, a series of novels covering five decades from the post-war period to present times. He died from cancer before completing it.
Starting in 1996, a year after Manchette's death, several unpublished works were released, showing how very active he was during in the years preceding his death.
In 2009, Fantagraphics Books released an English-language version of French cartoonist Jacques Tardi's adaptation of Le petit bleu, under the new English title 'West Coast Blues.' Fantagraphics released a second Tardi adaptation, of "La Position du tireur couché" (under the title "Like a Sniper Lining Up His Shot" ) in the summer of 2011, and has scheduled a third one, of "Ô Dingos! Ô Châteaux!" (under the title "Run Like Crazy Run Like Hell") in summer 2014. Manchette himself was a fan of comics, and his praised translation of Alan Moore's Watchmen into French remains in print.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 134 reviews
August 3, 2020
Fun romp - Manchette meets Hammett, with a bit of politics on the side - good action, good mystery, and characteristically fun, detached writing. The kind of detective story with no mystery and charming characters throughout.
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February 21, 2022
No Room at the Morgue publishes today, the first ever English translation of Jean-Patrick Manchette's hip crime classic featuring ex cop, now private eye Eugène Tarpon.
Thank you New York Review Books for counting Jean-Patrick Manchette as among your prime authors and thank you Alyson Waters for rendering the author's words into crisp, fluid English.
No Room at the Morgue - non-stop action juiced with social commentary galore, a novel sizzling on the grill with these tasty ingredients:
Eugène Tarpon
Former member of the National Gendarmerie, kicked out for killing one of the twenty-year old kids attacking a police station with bottles of gasoline, Tarpon sits in his fifth floor rundown Paris apartment, bottle in hand, admits the world is crazy and he should give up being a private detective. But he hears his doorbell ringing. Like it or not, Tarpon, time to pull yourself together and swing into action.
Two Actresses
"Griselda's throat's been slit." So a fetching gal calling herself Memphis Charles proclaims to Tarpon as a first step in seeking his help. As Tarpon comes to understand, Griselda and Memphis are roommates and both are actresses, Griselda playing roles in films with titles like Forbidden Caresses and The Desires of the Tartars while Memphis is more of a stunt artist. Tarpon also learns eventually Griselda has a backstory with bite. Watch out for those gleaming sharp teeth, Eugène!
Drugs and Bombs
When Tarpon suggest Memphis goes to the police, she tells him, "Cut it out , dirty cop, asshole. That's not the whole story. There are drugs in the apartment and bombs in the basement." Whoa, baby! This is 1972 so we can understand the beautiful babes are playing with LSD but bombs? Oh, yes, Memphis has friends of the far-left-wing persuasion.
Changing France
Again, this is the 1970s and Paris is undergoing a colossal overhaul - immigrants from all over the world bringing their own culture and tastes in music, food and fashion. Some native Parisians think their city has been turned over to, to name two, Jews and the Mafiosi.
Pop Culture
Tarpon pays a visit to the scene of the murder. He can see two giant posters on the wall: "a giant photo of a pregnant black woman wearing a button on her stomach (NIXON'S THE ONE said the button); at the other end of the bookshelves, another poster, a print of a pop singer whose name escaped me. Geiger? Jaeger? Something like that." Hey, Eugène, you're dating yourself old man. That's none other than the great Mick Jagger.
Key Literary Reference
"She (Memphis) asked me if I thought I was Sam Spade, and once again she had to explain to me that he was a character in a novel." Such a nice touch, Jean-Patrick! If there is any novel No Room at the Morgue can be likened to, it is Dashiell Hammett's Maltese Falcon - the primary reason: written in super-close third person. As Dashell has us following Same Spade around San Francisco, so Jean-Patrick has us continually looking over the shoulder of Eugène Tarpon. And, of course, there's a ton of roughhousing and corpses for the morgue.
Colorful Characters
What's a detective novel without those tiresome police that must be answered to? No Room features a couple of doozies along with the aforementioned extreme leftists, Arabs and Americans among their number, and, believe it or not, a bald, gruff, surly mafia chief who can't stop crying.
Brand-Name Gleam and Sheen
In the sheek world of Jean-Patrick Manchette, cars and guns hold high status, demanding to be called by their brand names: Lancia, Peugeot 203, Mercedes, Citroën DS, Toronado, Ruger, .32ACP, Mauser. Man, if you’re playing the game of international intrigue, you gotta drive with quality speed and shoot with deadly heat.
Concluding Tickler
In the book’s Afterward, Howard A. Rodman writes, “No Room at the Morgue is, then, a story that begins with Marx and ends in Freud, stopping along the way at Wilhelm Reich.” Now what does Howard mean by such a statement? For Jean-Patrick Manchette to tell.
Jean-Patrick Manchette, 1942-1995
"I took two steps toward the young guy and grabbed him by the collar. He tried to push me away by sticking his fist in my ribs and I punched him in the gut, hard. He immediately doubled over, hiccupping. He was a lightweight. I was ashamed of myself. I was fighting hard against my shame. I didn't know how we'd gotten to that point." -- Jean-Patrick Manchette, No Room at the Morgue
February 16, 2021
Υπάρχει ένας βασικός λόγος -ίσως κι ο μόνος- για να διαβάσω noir εκτός Αμερικής και ο λόγος αυτός ονομάζεται Manchette. Μπορεί το «Νεκροτομείο πλήρες» να μην συγκαταλέγεται στα κορυφαία έργα του, αλλά αυτό δεν το κάνει λιγότερο απολαυστικό.
Οι εμμονές και οι επιρροές του είναι παρούσες: Μια γερή δόση από Chandler (και ολίγη Hammett), καθώς ο πρωταγωνιστής ιδιωτικός ντετέκτιβ παραπέμπει στον Φ. Μάρλοου, ιδίως στον τρόπο που σκέφτεται, που εκφράζεται, που κινείται, που αντιδρά…
Αλλά και οι neo-polar πολιτικές προσθήκες δίνουν το «παρών». Διακριτικά πάντα, στο περιθώριο, ως φόντο. Ο Manchette είναι στιλίστας (στο πρότυπο των ειδώλων του) και δεν αφήνεται ξεδιάντροπα σε καταγγελίες και αφορισμούς.
Θεωρώ ότι ο Chandler θα ήταν υπερήφανος -ξανά- για το παιδί του.
Οι εμμονές και οι επιρροές του είναι παρούσες: Μια γερή δόση από Chandler (και ολίγη Hammett), καθώς ο πρωταγωνιστής ιδιωτικός ντετέκτιβ παραπέμπει στον Φ. Μάρλοου, ιδίως στον τρόπο που σκέφτεται, που εκφράζεται, που κινείται, που αντιδρά…
Αλλά και οι neo-polar πολιτικές προσθήκες δίνουν το «παρών». Διακριτικά πάντα, στο περιθώριο, ως φόντο. Ο Manchette είναι στιλίστας (στο πρότυπο των ειδώλων του) και δεν αφήνεται ξεδιάντροπα σε καταγγελίες και αφορισμούς.
Θεωρώ ότι ο Chandler θα ήταν υπερήφανος -ξανά- για το παιδί του.
December 25, 2020
Βαθμολογία: 9/10
Έκτο βιβλίο του Ζαν-Πατρίκ Μανσέτ που διαβάζω, αλλά τόσα χρόνια που έχουν περάσει από την τελευταία φορά που έπιασα βιβλίο του, είναι σαν να τον γνωρίζω μόλις τώρα. Γιατί, βλέπετε, από τον Οκτώβριο του 2013 είχα να διαβάσω κάτι δικό του, δηλαδή επτά και πλέον χρόνια πριν! Στο μεταξύ θα μπορούσα να είχα διαβάσει το (δυστυχώς ανολοκλήρωτο) "Η πριγκίπισσα του αίματος" ή το "Τι Λούκι!" (που είναι το δεύτερο βιβλίο με ήρωα τον ιδιωτικό ντετέκτιβ Εζέν Ταρπόν), αλλά δεν έτυχε.
Όπως και να'χει, κάλλιο αργά παρά ποτέ, επτά χρόνια μετά διάβασα το ολοκαίνουργιο στα ελληνικά "Νεκροτομείο πλήρες", και πραγματικά ενθουσιάστηκα. Με αντικειμενικά κριτήρια δεν πρόκειται για πεντάστερο αριστούργημα, όμως όντας λάτρης των σκληροτράχηλων νουάρ με ήρωες ιδιωτικούς ντετέκτιβ και έχοντας διαβάσει ουκ ολίγα τέτοια μυθιστορήματα, μπορώ να πω ότι αυτό είναι από τα πιο δυνατά και στιλάτα του είδους. Ο Μανσέτ δεν συνήθιζε να έχει σαν πρωταγωνιστές ιδιωτικούς ντετέκτιβ, οπότε με αυτό το βιβλίο είπε να το προσπαθήσει, είπε να δείξει σε ιερά τέρατα του είδους όπως ο Τσάντλερ ή ο Χάμετ, ότι μπορεί κι αυτός. Προφανώς με το δικό του συγγραφικό στιλ, με τη δική του τρέλα, με το δικό του κυνικό χιούμορ. Και κατάφερε να γράψει ένα πραγματικά σκληρό και βίαιο νουάρ, με πολλή ένταση και ακόμα περισσότερο νεύρο, με καταιγιστικούς ρυθμούς, χορταστική δράση, τρελά σκηνικά και μυστήριο που σε κρατάει μέχρι το τέλος. Εντάξει, η πλοκή δεν είναι και τόσο σφιχτοδεμένη (όπως π.χ. σε βιβλία του Τσάντλερ ή του Χάμετ), μιας και όπως και να το κάνουμε ο Μανσέτ ήταν αναρχική ψυχή, πάντως είναι άκρως ικανοποιητική και έχει κάποιες εκπλήξεις να προσφέρει.
Αυτό που κάνει τη διαφορά είναι το μίνιμαλ και σκληρό ύφος της γραφής, οι ρεαλιστικές περιγραφές, οι στακάτοι διάλογοι, ο έντονος κυνισμός, η τρέλα στην ατμόσφαιρα. Και από τη στιγμή που η ιστορία με ικανοποίησε από την πρώτη μέχρι την τελευταία σελίδα, δεν βλέπω τον λόγο να μην βάλω πέντε αστεράκια (για την ακρίβεια τεσσεράμισι) στο βιβλίο αυτό, όσο κι αν έτσι ίσως αδικώ άλλα βιβλία. Και τώρα που το σκέφτομαι, θα ήθελα να ξαναδιαβάσω κάποια στιγμή τα προηγούμενα βιβλία του Μανσέτ, και ειδικότερα το "Η πρηνής θέση του σκοπευτή" που διάβασα το 2010 και το "Το μελαγχολικό κομμάτι της Δυτικής Ακτής" που διάβασα το 2013 (αισθάνομαι ότι αυτά τα δυο τα έχω αδικήσει με τα τέσσερα αστεράκια).
Έκτο βιβλίο του Ζαν-Πατρίκ Μανσέτ που διαβάζω, αλλά τόσα χρόνια που έχουν περάσει από την τελευταία φορά που έπιασα βιβλίο του, είναι σαν να τον γνωρίζω μόλις τώρα. Γιατί, βλέπετε, από τον Οκτώβριο του 2013 είχα να διαβάσω κάτι δικό του, δηλαδή επτά και πλέον χρόνια πριν! Στο μεταξύ θα μπορούσα να είχα διαβάσει το (δυστυχώς ανολοκλήρωτο) "Η πριγκίπισσα του αίματος" ή το "Τι Λούκι!" (που είναι το δεύτερο βιβλίο με ήρωα τον ιδιωτικό ντετέκτιβ Εζέν Ταρπόν), αλλά δεν έτυχε.
Όπως και να'χει, κάλλιο αργά παρά ποτέ, επτά χρόνια μετά διάβασα το ολοκαίνουργιο στα ελληνικά "Νεκροτομείο πλήρες", και πραγματικά ενθουσιάστηκα. Με αντικειμενικά κριτήρια δεν πρόκειται για πεντάστερο αριστούργημα, όμως όντας λάτρης των σκληροτράχηλων νουάρ με ήρωες ιδιωτικούς ντετέκτιβ και έχοντας διαβάσει ουκ ολίγα τέτοια μυθιστορήματα, μπορώ να πω ότι αυτό είναι από τα πιο δυνατά και στιλάτα του είδους. Ο Μανσέτ δεν συνήθιζε να έχει σαν πρωταγωνιστές ιδιωτικούς ντετέκτιβ, οπότε με αυτό το βιβλίο είπε να το προσπαθήσει, είπε να δείξει σε ιερά τέρατα του είδους όπως ο Τσάντλερ ή ο Χάμετ, ότι μπορεί κι αυτός. Προφανώς με το δικό του συγγραφικό στιλ, με τη δική του τρέλα, με το δικό του κυνικό χιούμορ. Και κατάφερε να γράψει ένα πραγματικά σκληρό και βίαιο νουάρ, με πολλή ένταση και ακόμα περισσότερο νεύρο, με καταιγιστικούς ρυθμούς, χορταστική δράση, τρελά σκηνικά και μυστήριο που σε κρατάει μέχρι το τέλος. Εντάξει, η πλοκή δεν είναι και τόσο σφιχτοδεμένη (όπως π.χ. σε βιβλία του Τσάντλερ ή του Χάμετ), μιας και όπως και να το κάνουμε ο Μανσέτ ήταν αναρχική ψυχή, πάντως είναι άκρως ικανοποιητική και έχει κάποιες εκπλήξεις να προσφέρει.
Αυτό που κάνει τη διαφορά είναι το μίνιμαλ και σκληρό ύφος της γραφής, οι ρεαλιστικές περιγραφές, οι στακάτοι διάλογοι, ο έντονος κυνισμός, η τρέλα στην ατμόσφαιρα. Και από τη στιγμή που η ιστορία με ικανοποίησε από την πρώτη μέχρι την τελευταία σελίδα, δεν βλέπω τον λόγο να μην βάλω πέντε αστεράκια (για την ακρίβεια τεσσεράμισι) στο βιβλίο αυτό, όσο κι αν έτσι ίσως αδικώ άλλα βιβλία. Και τώρα που το σκέφτομαι, θα ήθελα να ξαναδιαβάσω κάποια στιγμή τα προηγούμενα βιβλία του Μανσέτ, και ειδικότερα το "Η πρηνής θέση του σκοπευτή" που διάβασα το 2010 και το "Το μελαγχολικό κομμάτι της Δυτικής Ακτής" που διάβασα το 2013 (αισθάνομαι ότι αυτά τα δυο τα έχω αδικήσει με τα τέσσερα αστεράκια).
February 24, 2024
While Richard Brautigan dreams of Babylon [1977] in Seattle, Jean Patrick Manchette in Paris dreams he is Dashiell Hammett [1973]. Reading back to back crime novels reveals surprising similarities between the two approaches, so let’s embark on this Seattle to Paris express and see where it leads us:
... to the morgue, in both novels, where a private dick investigates the corpse of a very beautiful young woman.
“You’re a private eye, aren’t you?”
And there it was. That moniker straight out of a novel. I shrugged and stepped back. He came in. I didn’t tell him it was over, that I was no longer investigating anything, that I’d never really begun. I was happy just to see someone.
Both authors use the classic pulp novels of the 1940s’ for inspiration, but while Brautigan tries to deconstruct the genre in a funny way, I got the feeling Manchette is writing straight up fan-fiction.
The good news is that Manchette is a really good writer, one who absorbed and internalized the best of the genre through his numerous translations from his favorite writers. The let down for me is the absence of an original voice in this particular novel where the goal of writing something similar to Hammett has all but erased the true personality of Manchette. I liked Fatale by the same author much better, or maybe I was just in a better mood when I read it, because the style of the French author is not much changed between these two stories. Manchette doesn’t waste words and is really good at conveying character and setting in a tight package.
Its only the plot that gets needlessly twisted and derivative in this visit to the Paris morgue, with characters that are like carbon copies of the cast of The Maltese Falcon.
The world is crazy. I should have gone back to Mom like I’d planned.
The similarities between the two novels continue with the personalities of these two private investigators, both of whom have mother issues and both of whom are fighting with crippling depression.
Brautigan deals with his gumshoe issues with a sharp ironic voice that I found more entertaining that the presentation of Eugene Tarpon, which in turn has the merit of being more realistic if more grim and cynical.
Both novels are short and fast-paced and I believe are worth the price of admittance even if they might not make it into my end of the year top positions.
... to the morgue, in both novels, where a private dick investigates the corpse of a very beautiful young woman.
“You’re a private eye, aren’t you?”
And there it was. That moniker straight out of a novel. I shrugged and stepped back. He came in. I didn’t tell him it was over, that I was no longer investigating anything, that I’d never really begun. I was happy just to see someone.
Both authors use the classic pulp novels of the 1940s’ for inspiration, but while Brautigan tries to deconstruct the genre in a funny way, I got the feeling Manchette is writing straight up fan-fiction.
The good news is that Manchette is a really good writer, one who absorbed and internalized the best of the genre through his numerous translations from his favorite writers. The let down for me is the absence of an original voice in this particular novel where the goal of writing something similar to Hammett has all but erased the true personality of Manchette. I liked Fatale by the same author much better, or maybe I was just in a better mood when I read it, because the style of the French author is not much changed between these two stories. Manchette doesn’t waste words and is really good at conveying character and setting in a tight package.
Its only the plot that gets needlessly twisted and derivative in this visit to the Paris morgue, with characters that are like carbon copies of the cast of The Maltese Falcon.
The world is crazy. I should have gone back to Mom like I’d planned.
The similarities between the two novels continue with the personalities of these two private investigators, both of whom have mother issues and both of whom are fighting with crippling depression.
Brautigan deals with his gumshoe issues with a sharp ironic voice that I found more entertaining that the presentation of Eugene Tarpon, which in turn has the merit of being more realistic if more grim and cynical.
Both novels are short and fast-paced and I believe are worth the price of admittance even if they might not make it into my end of the year top positions.
February 9, 2021
Αρχές του 2000, νέος φοιτητής τότε, έρχομαι σε επαφή με το έργο του Manchette, αγοράζοντας την "Πρήνη θέση..." και λίγο αργότερα το "Μελαγχολικό κομμάτι...". Και τα δύο βιβλία μου είχαν κάνει τρομερή εντύπωση, λόγω της γραφικής βίας, του απλού αλλά περιεκτικού ύφους και της αισθητικής που παρέπεμπε σε late 60's early 70s φτηνό κινηματογράφο. Μετά από λίγο καιρό διάβασα και τα υπόλοιπα βιβλία του (εκτός από το "Μοιραία") και έκτοτε ασχολήθηκα με άλλα αναγνώσματα. Ως εκ τούτου χάρηκα με την παρούσα έκδοση αφού ήταν ευκαιρία για μένα να επιστρέψω στον Manchette και με χαρά να θυμηθώ ότι τα στοιχεία που μου άρεσαν τότε όπως η βία, η κινηματογραφική αισθητική (όχι η πρόζα) και το μακάβριο συναίσθημα ήταν ακόμα εκεί διαποτισμένα με ψήγματα κωμωδίας. Ο Mancette, χωρίς να αποκλίνει από τα κλισέ του είδους καταφέρνει να γράψει ένα απλό αλλά περιεκτικό και άκρως απολαυστικό βιβλίο, το οποίο όμως γίνεται λίγο κουραστικό λόγω της μετάφρασης και της γενικότερης έκδοσης. Γιατί, δυστυχώς, μαζί με τον Manchette επέστρεψε η αισθητική της αντιπαθέστατης Άγρας με το πολυτονικό και την δύσκολη μετάφραση που εμποδίζει την ομαλή ροή του βιβλίου. Στα θετικά, το επίμετρο με τις συνεντεύξεις αλλά και πάλι η όλη έκδοση κάνει ένα ανάλαφρο ανάγνωσμα να μοιάζει με βαριά λογοτεχνία....oh well...διαβάστε και το δεύτερο βιβλίο με τον Ταρπόν.
January 3, 2021
Είναι δύσκολο να μιλήσεις για το νουάρ μυθιστόρημα χωρίς να μιλήσεις για τον Γάλλο μαέστρο Ζαν-Πατρίκ Μανσέτ, για τις πολύνεκρες πλοκές του και τους τσαλακωμένους του ήρωες. Ε εδώ σίγουρα δεν μιλάμε για εξαίρεση, μιας και ο φίλος μας παίρνει όλα τα κλισέ του ιδιωτικού ντετέκτιβ και τα αποδομεί, καταλήγοντας σε ένα έργο πρωτότυπο εν τέλει, ένας προάγγελος θα έλεγες του Έκτορ Μπελασκοάραν Σάυν του Πάκο Ιγκνάσιο Τάιμπο ΙΙ. Εξαιρετικός για μια ακόμη φορά.
May 15, 2021
Οι μεν και οι δε συνεχίζουμε την τέχνη μας, παρόλο που είμαστε κυνηγημένοι από την αγορά, από την κριτική και από δύο χιλιάδες χρόνια κουλτούρας στοιβαγμένα μέσα στα κεφάλια μας. Πεθαίνουμε ή αποβλακωνόμαστε απ' αυτό. Μπορεί επίσης και να τρελαθούμε, είναι πιο μοντέρνο. Τα προγνωστικά μου είναι τελείως δυσοίωνα...
J. -P. Manchette 1980
Συμπάσχων της τραγικότητας του βομβαρδισμενου με επίκτητες ανάγκες αστικού κοινωνικού τοπίου αλλά και τρομερός στυλίστας ηθικοακροβατει πάνω στα συντρίμμια του
J. -P. Manchette 1980
Συμπάσχων της τραγικότητας του βομβαρδισμενου με επίκτητες ανάγκες αστικού κοινωνικού τοπίου αλλά και τρομερός στυλίστας ηθικοακροβατει πάνω στα συντρίμμια του
August 10, 2020
As I live on in the 21st-century, I'm finding less pleasure in everyday life, except for the novels by Jean-Patrick Manchette (1942-1995). "No Room at the Morgue" is unusual (so far) compared to his other narratives because the main character is a private detective. Like a classic crime-noir novel, there are colorful characters in an iconic city, that's Paris. The placement of a crime novel is always using the location as if it's another character. I often wish that their fiction section is organized in a bookstore in what city the story takes place. If I want to read a Parisian story, I go to the Paris section of the store.
Manchette is one of the great crime writers, and what gives him that edge is that his world is very much part of the May '68 world or rebellion and the failure of that movement. Usually, in classic detective novels, there is the background of war or an economic downturn that fuels the narrative in some form or method. Manchette is no different in using contemporary (at then) life, and making it very much part of the world of the characters, and how they operate in such a manner.
Harold A. Rodman's afterword is a dessert after a delicious main meal, the novel itself. Once again, the New York Review of Books has put together a masterful package.
Manchette is one of the great crime writers, and what gives him that edge is that his world is very much part of the May '68 world or rebellion and the failure of that movement. Usually, in classic detective novels, there is the background of war or an economic downturn that fuels the narrative in some form or method. Manchette is no different in using contemporary (at then) life, and making it very much part of the world of the characters, and how they operate in such a manner.
Harold A. Rodman's afterword is a dessert after a delicious main meal, the novel itself. Once again, the New York Review of Books has put together a masterful package.
February 28, 2021
After a promising start, Manchette delivers a narrative that becomes increasingly more preposterous and muddled. Just a dash more of the absurd and this would have made a great parody of true noir.
2.5 stars
2.5 stars
August 7, 2022
Εκπληκτικός Manchette!!!
February 17, 2024
The doorbell rings around midnight, and a young woman whose real name is not Memphis Charlie tells private investigator Eugéne Tarpon: Griselda's throat's been slit.
And so we have a whodunit, which quickly enough becomes a whodunthem, although some we witness first-hand. The morgue does fill up though, as the title claims. By book's end, all bodies are accounted for, though for me that was less interesting than the interactions with Tarpon and a whole host of other characters. Especially the dialogue. Like when the retired journalist Haymann keeps calling Tarpon "Doubting Dipshit". Some of the action scenes - car chases, shootings, knifings, druggings - did turn a little cinematic though.
Anyhow, I was reading this as some private eye tale, something unchallenging to fill a gap between meatier stuff, the nyrb cover serving as an intellectual beard. It wasn't until I read the AFTERWORD that I learned: No Room at the Morgue is, then, a story that begins with Marx and ends in Freud, stopping along the way at Wilhelm Reich.
I hope I haven't plot-spoiled by sharing that.
And so we have a whodunit, which quickly enough becomes a whodunthem, although some we witness first-hand. The morgue does fill up though, as the title claims. By book's end, all bodies are accounted for, though for me that was less interesting than the interactions with Tarpon and a whole host of other characters. Especially the dialogue. Like when the retired journalist Haymann keeps calling Tarpon "Doubting Dipshit". Some of the action scenes - car chases, shootings, knifings, druggings - did turn a little cinematic though.
Anyhow, I was reading this as some private eye tale, something unchallenging to fill a gap between meatier stuff, the nyrb cover serving as an intellectual beard. It wasn't until I read the AFTERWORD that I learned: No Room at the Morgue is, then, a story that begins with Marx and ends in Freud, stopping along the way at Wilhelm Reich.
I hope I haven't plot-spoiled by sharing that.
December 22, 2020
Jean-Patrick Manchette’s No Room at the Morgue is the first book I’ve read from NYRB Classics that’s just flat out bad. The back cover includes a blurb from Kirkus Reviews that says, “If Marx, Freud, and Jim Thompson collaborated on a noir, this might be the result.”
Actually, if Marx, Freud, and Jim Thompson had had an editor, this book would never have been published.
A good crime novel raises questions in the reader’s mind to keep them hooked. Manchette’s novel raises three questions that never go away:
1. What the hell is going on?
2. Who are these people?
3. Why should I care?
Let’s start with number one. Ex-cop Eugène Tarpon has set up shop as a private eye in Paris. In all the months he’s been in business, he’s had exactly zero cases. On day one of the story, three–count, ‘em, three–new clients walk in.
Client #1 is another ex-cop and former co-worker. He wants to hire Tarpon to train corporate security guards to beat up striking workers. Tarpon says no, curses his old friend, and kicks him out.
Client #2 is a young man who complains that criminals are extorting his jazz club in a protection racket. Tarpon racks his brains to figure out how he can help this poor kid. The solution: he beats him up right there in his office and kicks him out. But don’t get the wrong idea and think that Tarpon is a bad guy. As he punches the kid in the gut (without any provocation) he tells the reader that he doesn’t know why he’s doing what he’s doing, but he sure feels bad about it.
Umm… OK.
Client #3 is a young woman named Memphis Charles whose roommate has just been brutally murdered. Tarpon asks why she hasn’t gone to the police. She says the police will think she committed the murder, so she thought it would be better to hire a private eye (while the body in her apartment is still warm) to prove her innocence.
Tarpon says no, and it’s the only sensible thing he does in this book.
He then proceeds to insult Memphis Charles for no good reason. By now, the reader understands why Tarpon has no clients. The young woman doesn’t take insults well. She beats the crap out of Tarpon, bashes his head in with a lamp, and leaves him unconscious on the floor.
But again, lest we worry that Memphis Charles is an unlikable girl, the author has her leave a thoughtful note on Tarpon’s bed, apologizing for kicking him in the nuts and bashing his skull in.
That’s as far as this book ever goes toward answering question #3. Why should we care about Tarpon or Memphis Charles? Because they feel bad when they beat people up.
But let’s get back to question #1–What the hell is going on?–because there’s lots to explore here. As far as I can tell, a bunch of muddle-headed characters are doing their best to muddle through a muddled story that takes place in a world that’s not governed by any form of logic.
After refusing to take Memphis Charles’ case and getting beat unconscious, Tarpon decides the best thing he can do right now, at 3:20 a.m., is take a cab across town and wander into the crime scene while the police are investigating it. That apology note must have really hit home.
When he goes into Charles’ apartment to view the corpse, the cops naturally ask what he’s doing there. What would bring him into that particular apartment in that distant part of town at that time of night? To the scene of a murder that no one in Paris even knows about yet?
Tarpon’s brilliant and devasting answer: “I just happened to be walking by.”
Well, that should lay their suspicions to rest. Those cops can be mistrustful when things don’t add up, so you’d better give them an air-tight story. “Just walking by” is as air-tight as you can get, except the cops watched you get out of the cab. Doh!
The cops tell Tarpon to leave, so what does he do? Why, he wanders into the basement and finds a set of bombs.
The cops scold him. “We told you to leave! Why did you go into the basement?”
Tarpon: “Sorry. I’m drunk.”
Whew! I don’t know how he thought of that one, but it got him out of a scrape. The cops tell him to go home and rest.
Tarpon spends the next several chapters getting kidnapped. You’d think after the first kidnapping, he’d be more cautious, but no.
In one scene, a kid follows him down the street, pulls a knife, and says, “You’re coming with me.”
“Why?”
“Some very scary people sent me to get you.”
“OK.”
Tarpon follows the kid to a whorehouse. The go up a flight of stairs. At the top of the stairs, Tarpon decides he doesn’t want to meet the very scary people. He beats the crap out of the kid, then stands on his stomach and rides the kid down the stairs like a snowboard. At the bottom, he beats the kid up some more, feeling really bad about it, because, you know, Tarpon is a good guy.
When he’s done beating up the kid, Tarpon is free to go. So what does he do? He walks back up the stairs, unarmed, and kicks in the door of the room containing the very scary people who wanted to meet him. There he finds two men, both pointing guns at him.
Tarpon confides to the reader, “I wasn’t expecting that.”
Well what the hell was he expecting? Martha Stewart and cupcakes?
The scary guys force him into a car and drive him out of Paris. They wait on a secluded wooded road until a large Mercedes limousine pulls up. The thugs force Tarpon into the limo at gunpoint. Inside, the driver points a gun at Tarpon’s head and forces him to watch the fat man in the back seat cry silently for twenty minutes.
Then another thug pulls Tarpon from the limo and says, “I’m sorry. You’ll have to walk home.”
End of scene.
Um… WTF??
The book goes on like this, with more and more characters, all of whom are so thinly drawn, we can’t remember who they are from one page to the next. By the midpoint of the story, Manchette has shovelled in so many characters, he stops giving them names. The radical left-wing terrorists who abduct Tarpon in front of his apartment are known simply as “the first bearded guy” and “the second bearded guy.”
After the reader spends several pages wondering why the bearded guys abducted him, Tarpon himself finally puts the question directly to Memphis Charles.
“Why did they kidnap me?”
Her answer boils down to, “I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense, does it?”
No, it doesn’t. But it sure is convenient that the abductors took the detective right to Memphis Charles, because he never would have found her on his own. Readers should thank the author for that deus ex machina, as it likely spared them several chapters of stretched credulity and scenes like the following:
When the mafia gunmen escort Tarpon out of the terrorist’s hideaway, he hears sounds of torture coming from a side room. What does he do? Why, he ignores the gun in his back and the thug’s instructions to exit, and instead he opens the torture chamber to see what’s inside.
Good thing he did. You know why?
Because inside is a hammer he can use to bash the Mafia thug’s hand that holds the gun that is pointing directly into his face. The thoughtful Tarpon does just that and gets himself out of yet another scrape.
After dispatching the Mafia, Tarpon gets to show what a good guy he is by freeing the terrorists in exchange for their solemn promise to behave from now on. You’d think that as an ex-cop, Tarpon would be mad at the terrorists after watching them douse a fellow cop with gasoline and set him on fire. But no. When he’s not beating the crap out of kids, Tarpon is really good at seeing people’s true humanity.
But wait, there’s more! To spare you having to read it, I’ll paraphrase a couple of the juicier scenes.
Haymann: “I don’t know what you got me wrapped up in, Tarpon, but the cops interrogated me for six hours last night. Whatever it is, I want no part of it. I can’t take this kind of heat. You hear me?”
Tarpon: “Mind if I hide a stolen car in your yard?”
Haymann: “Yeah, sure. Come on over.”
And this meeting between Tarpon and the Mafia boss at the Hilton:
Tarpon: “I killed your henchmen last night.”
Mafia Boss: “I know.”
Tarpon: “Thanks for inexplicably cleaning up the murder scene, disposing of the bodies, and getting rid of all the evidence so I won’t have to go to prison.”
Mafia Boss: “Have some cognac.”
Tarpon: [Drinks cognac, collapses in agony.] “Damn! I’ve been poisoned!”
Twelve hours later, Tarpon awakes achy and sick, his mouth dry as a bone. The Mafia boss is standing over him.
Tarpon: “God, I’m thirsty.”
Mafia Boss: “Here. Have some cognac.”
Tarpon: [Doubtfully] “Mmm… I don’t know.”
Mafia Boss: “This one isn’t poisoned.”
Tarpon: “OK.” [Drinks cognac.] “Boy, that really hits the spot!”
The best thing about this book is the cover, which features a provocative and beautifully staged photo by Guy Bourdin. As for the contents, well… Have you ever been on a date with an incredibly attractive person who turns into a train wreck as soon as they open their mouth? Part of you keeps looking at the clock, wondering how soon you can leave, while another part keeps saying, “No, wait, I want to see how bad this gets.”
Actually, if Marx, Freud, and Jim Thompson had had an editor, this book would never have been published.
A good crime novel raises questions in the reader’s mind to keep them hooked. Manchette’s novel raises three questions that never go away:
1. What the hell is going on?
2. Who are these people?
3. Why should I care?
Let’s start with number one. Ex-cop Eugène Tarpon has set up shop as a private eye in Paris. In all the months he’s been in business, he’s had exactly zero cases. On day one of the story, three–count, ‘em, three–new clients walk in.
Client #1 is another ex-cop and former co-worker. He wants to hire Tarpon to train corporate security guards to beat up striking workers. Tarpon says no, curses his old friend, and kicks him out.
Client #2 is a young man who complains that criminals are extorting his jazz club in a protection racket. Tarpon racks his brains to figure out how he can help this poor kid. The solution: he beats him up right there in his office and kicks him out. But don’t get the wrong idea and think that Tarpon is a bad guy. As he punches the kid in the gut (without any provocation) he tells the reader that he doesn’t know why he’s doing what he’s doing, but he sure feels bad about it.
Umm… OK.
Client #3 is a young woman named Memphis Charles whose roommate has just been brutally murdered. Tarpon asks why she hasn’t gone to the police. She says the police will think she committed the murder, so she thought it would be better to hire a private eye (while the body in her apartment is still warm) to prove her innocence.
Tarpon says no, and it’s the only sensible thing he does in this book.
He then proceeds to insult Memphis Charles for no good reason. By now, the reader understands why Tarpon has no clients. The young woman doesn’t take insults well. She beats the crap out of Tarpon, bashes his head in with a lamp, and leaves him unconscious on the floor.
But again, lest we worry that Memphis Charles is an unlikable girl, the author has her leave a thoughtful note on Tarpon’s bed, apologizing for kicking him in the nuts and bashing his skull in.
That’s as far as this book ever goes toward answering question #3. Why should we care about Tarpon or Memphis Charles? Because they feel bad when they beat people up.
But let’s get back to question #1–What the hell is going on?–because there’s lots to explore here. As far as I can tell, a bunch of muddle-headed characters are doing their best to muddle through a muddled story that takes place in a world that’s not governed by any form of logic.
After refusing to take Memphis Charles’ case and getting beat unconscious, Tarpon decides the best thing he can do right now, at 3:20 a.m., is take a cab across town and wander into the crime scene while the police are investigating it. That apology note must have really hit home.
When he goes into Charles’ apartment to view the corpse, the cops naturally ask what he’s doing there. What would bring him into that particular apartment in that distant part of town at that time of night? To the scene of a murder that no one in Paris even knows about yet?
Tarpon’s brilliant and devasting answer: “I just happened to be walking by.”
Well, that should lay their suspicions to rest. Those cops can be mistrustful when things don’t add up, so you’d better give them an air-tight story. “Just walking by” is as air-tight as you can get, except the cops watched you get out of the cab. Doh!
The cops tell Tarpon to leave, so what does he do? Why, he wanders into the basement and finds a set of bombs.
The cops scold him. “We told you to leave! Why did you go into the basement?”
Tarpon: “Sorry. I’m drunk.”
Whew! I don’t know how he thought of that one, but it got him out of a scrape. The cops tell him to go home and rest.
Tarpon spends the next several chapters getting kidnapped. You’d think after the first kidnapping, he’d be more cautious, but no.
In one scene, a kid follows him down the street, pulls a knife, and says, “You’re coming with me.”
“Why?”
“Some very scary people sent me to get you.”
“OK.”
Tarpon follows the kid to a whorehouse. The go up a flight of stairs. At the top of the stairs, Tarpon decides he doesn’t want to meet the very scary people. He beats the crap out of the kid, then stands on his stomach and rides the kid down the stairs like a snowboard. At the bottom, he beats the kid up some more, feeling really bad about it, because, you know, Tarpon is a good guy.
When he’s done beating up the kid, Tarpon is free to go. So what does he do? He walks back up the stairs, unarmed, and kicks in the door of the room containing the very scary people who wanted to meet him. There he finds two men, both pointing guns at him.
Tarpon confides to the reader, “I wasn’t expecting that.”
Well what the hell was he expecting? Martha Stewart and cupcakes?
The scary guys force him into a car and drive him out of Paris. They wait on a secluded wooded road until a large Mercedes limousine pulls up. The thugs force Tarpon into the limo at gunpoint. Inside, the driver points a gun at Tarpon’s head and forces him to watch the fat man in the back seat cry silently for twenty minutes.
Then another thug pulls Tarpon from the limo and says, “I’m sorry. You’ll have to walk home.”
End of scene.
Um… WTF??
The book goes on like this, with more and more characters, all of whom are so thinly drawn, we can’t remember who they are from one page to the next. By the midpoint of the story, Manchette has shovelled in so many characters, he stops giving them names. The radical left-wing terrorists who abduct Tarpon in front of his apartment are known simply as “the first bearded guy” and “the second bearded guy.”
After the reader spends several pages wondering why the bearded guys abducted him, Tarpon himself finally puts the question directly to Memphis Charles.
“Why did they kidnap me?”
Her answer boils down to, “I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense, does it?”
No, it doesn’t. But it sure is convenient that the abductors took the detective right to Memphis Charles, because he never would have found her on his own. Readers should thank the author for that deus ex machina, as it likely spared them several chapters of stretched credulity and scenes like the following:
When the mafia gunmen escort Tarpon out of the terrorist’s hideaway, he hears sounds of torture coming from a side room. What does he do? Why, he ignores the gun in his back and the thug’s instructions to exit, and instead he opens the torture chamber to see what’s inside.
Good thing he did. You know why?
Because inside is a hammer he can use to bash the Mafia thug’s hand that holds the gun that is pointing directly into his face. The thoughtful Tarpon does just that and gets himself out of yet another scrape.
After dispatching the Mafia, Tarpon gets to show what a good guy he is by freeing the terrorists in exchange for their solemn promise to behave from now on. You’d think that as an ex-cop, Tarpon would be mad at the terrorists after watching them douse a fellow cop with gasoline and set him on fire. But no. When he’s not beating the crap out of kids, Tarpon is really good at seeing people’s true humanity.
But wait, there’s more! To spare you having to read it, I’ll paraphrase a couple of the juicier scenes.
Haymann: “I don’t know what you got me wrapped up in, Tarpon, but the cops interrogated me for six hours last night. Whatever it is, I want no part of it. I can’t take this kind of heat. You hear me?”
Tarpon: “Mind if I hide a stolen car in your yard?”
Haymann: “Yeah, sure. Come on over.”
And this meeting between Tarpon and the Mafia boss at the Hilton:
Tarpon: “I killed your henchmen last night.”
Mafia Boss: “I know.”
Tarpon: “Thanks for inexplicably cleaning up the murder scene, disposing of the bodies, and getting rid of all the evidence so I won’t have to go to prison.”
Mafia Boss: “Have some cognac.”
Tarpon: [Drinks cognac, collapses in agony.] “Damn! I’ve been poisoned!”
Twelve hours later, Tarpon awakes achy and sick, his mouth dry as a bone. The Mafia boss is standing over him.
Tarpon: “God, I’m thirsty.”
Mafia Boss: “Here. Have some cognac.”
Tarpon: [Doubtfully] “Mmm… I don’t know.”
Mafia Boss: “This one isn’t poisoned.”
Tarpon: “OK.” [Drinks cognac.] “Boy, that really hits the spot!”
The best thing about this book is the cover, which features a provocative and beautifully staged photo by Guy Bourdin. As for the contents, well… Have you ever been on a date with an incredibly attractive person who turns into a train wreck as soon as they open their mouth? Part of you keeps looking at the clock, wondering how soon you can leave, while another part keeps saying, “No, wait, I want to see how bad this gets.”
March 14, 2021
Πρώτη επαφή με Μανσέτ, σίγουρα όχι τελευταία. Γραφή κινηματογραφική, στυλιζαρισμένη και με γρήγορο μοντάζ. Περιγραφές ανύπαρκτες, κάτι άκρως θετικό για αστυνομικό μυθιστόρημα. Ο ντετέκτιβ αντιήρωας, κόντρα σε πολλά στερεότυπα των Ντετέκτιβ: Ψιλο-μαλθακός, απεχθάνεται το αίμα, την βία και τα όπλα. Παρόλα αυτά μοναχικός, αποτυχημένος, μέθυσος και πρωην-μπάτσος.
Ο Μανσέτ γράφει μια περίεργη μείξη hard-boiled αμερικανικού αστυνομικού και γαλλικού πολάρ, έχοντας αρκετό Χάμετ και μπόλικο Τσάντλερ μέσα. Είναι όμως λιγότερο ρομαντικός και ιδεαλιστής, με δυνατό χαρτί όχι την υπόθεση (κάτι αναμενόμενο γιατί εδώ που τα λέμε, πόσα διαφορετικά εγκλήματα να σκεφτεί κανείς για να ικανοποιήσει την δίψα του αναγνώστη για σφάξιμο και βία), αλλά τον λόγο του - γράφει κωμικά αλλά όχι γελοία, ημι-λογοτεχνικά αλλά όχι επιτηδευμένα και κλασικιστικά. Έχει χιούμορ το οποίο τοποθετείται σε άψογα σημεία, κάτι που είναι πολύ δύσκολο και μαρτυρά έναν βαθύ γνώστη της γλώσσας και του χειρισμού του λόγου. Έναν λογοτέχνη, ο οποίος όμως διαχωρίζει την θέση του αλλά και την διαφορά μεταξύ κλασικής λογοτεχνίας και αστυνομικού, ελπίζοντας πως το μεν δεν θα "μολύνει" ποτέ το δε.
Ο Μανσέτ γράφει μια περίεργη μείξη hard-boiled αμερικανικού αστυνομικού και γαλλικού πολάρ, έχοντας αρκετό Χάμετ και μπόλικο Τσάντλερ μέσα. Είναι όμως λιγότερο ρομαντικός και ιδεαλιστής, με δυνατό χαρτί όχι την υπόθεση (κάτι αναμενόμενο γιατί εδώ που τα λέμε, πόσα διαφορετικά εγκλήματα να σκεφτεί κανείς για να ικανοποιήσει την δίψα του αναγνώστη για σφάξιμο και βία), αλλά τον λόγο του - γράφει κωμικά αλλά όχι γελοία, ημι-λογοτεχνικά αλλά όχι επιτηδευμένα και κλασικιστικά. Έχει χιούμορ το οποίο τοποθετείται σε άψογα σημεία, κάτι που είναι πολύ δύσκολο και μαρτυρά έναν βαθύ γνώστη της γλώσσας και του χειρισμού του λόγου. Έναν λογοτέχνη, ο οποίος όμως διαχωρίζει την θέση του αλλά και την διαφορά μεταξύ κλασικής λογοτεχνίας και αστυνομικού, ελπίζοντας πως το μεν δεν θα "μολύνει" ποτέ το δε.
March 22, 2023
Short, punchy, and fast moving, this is a gritty and gratifying mystery.
Manchette is a great descriptive writer, who paints a clear and distinct picture of the action and its environs. The detective is down at the heel, and gets knocked around a lot, but there’s nothing in this novel that feels like it’s beyond the realm of reality.
That quality was what I enjoyed the most. It was entirely believable, yet exciting enough to maintain my interest and keep me quickly turning pages.
Though sordid, it had none of the bleakness and despair of a Simenon novel.
Very well done. Recommended for lovers of seedy detective novels, 70’s noir, and Jean-Pierre Melville films.
Manchette is a great descriptive writer, who paints a clear and distinct picture of the action and its environs. The detective is down at the heel, and gets knocked around a lot, but there’s nothing in this novel that feels like it’s beyond the realm of reality.
That quality was what I enjoyed the most. It was entirely believable, yet exciting enough to maintain my interest and keep me quickly turning pages.
Though sordid, it had none of the bleakness and despair of a Simenon novel.
Very well done. Recommended for lovers of seedy detective novels, 70’s noir, and Jean-Pierre Melville films.
March 27, 2021
Do yourself a favour and pick up a Manchette novel ASAP.
This was billed as Manchette's ode to Hammett, but if anything it's more Raymond Chandler. It's in first person and it's a straight up detective novel, which is different for Manchette, but it's as good as anything else he's written. The mystery isn't much but it keeps going from one scene to the next with a good bit of action and the characters feel more fleshed out than some of his other stuff.
This was billed as Manchette's ode to Hammett, but if anything it's more Raymond Chandler. It's in first person and it's a straight up detective novel, which is different for Manchette, but it's as good as anything else he's written. The mystery isn't much but it keeps going from one scene to the next with a good bit of action and the characters feel more fleshed out than some of his other stuff.
December 19, 2020
If Jean - Patrick Manchette needs any introduction, which I find highly unlikely if not impossible, one could simply say that he is the one that invented, established, and perfected the neo-polar, the new crime/police/investigative story, with marked social twists (representative of the post-1968 French society), sublime irony and humor, along with the necessary portion of action and plot webs that are reminiscent of polar masters like Chandler, Hammett and Manchette's favorite (and mine) Ross Thomas.
We are here introduced to Eugene Tarpon, the ex-cop come PI, entangling himself in a story of murder, pseudo-anarchists and crusaders, mobsters, porno producers, lost ex-lolitas and surprisingly good cops. We of course get to see Tarpon again, in "Que d' os!", the only other PI-led book by Manchette, which is even more fun than the present.
The plot is typical Manchette, a bit all over the place; the holes are there, a swiss-cheese like construction, but one makes sense alright, the pace is fast, the one-liners would put to shame many supposedly "popular" writers that have so mysteriously flabbergasted many readers, especially here, and -at the end of the day- this is entertainment with a social twist as mentioned above. It's like the perfect dry martini: it makes you smile, wonder, momentarily, whether you overdid it in the mix and soon discarding the thought and its taste is both dry, refreshing and may eventually lead you to even more excitement down the road.
I must say that the NYRB edition is superb. I have read Manchette in the original and in our own, Greek, excellent translations. However, NYRB brought out all idioms, peculiarities and life itself of the words used in an amazing fashion.
NYRB rightly so put an afterword and not a foreword, which frankly speaking is a nonsensical thing to do. Mr. Rodman's afterword is possibly one of the best I have read, focusing on the author, his books, without any wish to self-promote, copy the style of the book itself or swiftly go through the motion of simply praising the writer.
Recommended reading, a breather from other heavy, and unfortunately sometimes pretentious, books.
We are here introduced to Eugene Tarpon, the ex-cop come PI, entangling himself in a story of murder, pseudo-anarchists and crusaders, mobsters, porno producers, lost ex-lolitas and surprisingly good cops. We of course get to see Tarpon again, in "Que d' os!", the only other PI-led book by Manchette, which is even more fun than the present.
The plot is typical Manchette, a bit all over the place; the holes are there, a swiss-cheese like construction, but one makes sense alright, the pace is fast, the one-liners would put to shame many supposedly "popular" writers that have so mysteriously flabbergasted many readers, especially here, and -at the end of the day- this is entertainment with a social twist as mentioned above. It's like the perfect dry martini: it makes you smile, wonder, momentarily, whether you overdid it in the mix and soon discarding the thought and its taste is both dry, refreshing and may eventually lead you to even more excitement down the road.
I must say that the NYRB edition is superb. I have read Manchette in the original and in our own, Greek, excellent translations. However, NYRB brought out all idioms, peculiarities and life itself of the words used in an amazing fashion.
NYRB rightly so put an afterword and not a foreword, which frankly speaking is a nonsensical thing to do. Mr. Rodman's afterword is possibly one of the best I have read, focusing on the author, his books, without any wish to self-promote, copy the style of the book itself or swiftly go through the motion of simply praising the writer.
Recommended reading, a breather from other heavy, and unfortunately sometimes pretentious, books.
December 9, 2020
From his earlier work, Manchette stands as highly as the great Gallic noir writers, Garnier, Izzo, Dard, and the big daddy, Simenon. All four, Fatale, The Prone Gunman, and especially The Mad and The Bad and Three To Kill, are tremendous. He is a real favourite of mine.
So it was particularly exciting that NYRB have chosen to reissue three of his lesser know work; firstly Ivory Pearl, which I read and reviewed last year, and now this, and Nada, which I have, but have yet to read.
This is something different to his others, which are genuine French noir - gritty, hard-hitting carnage leading to a brutal end. Here, as a type of tribute, he emulates the writing of Dashiell Hammett, clearly one of his key influences.
He introduces Eugène Tarpon, a disgraced former policeman, now a Private Investigator. It begins with Tarpon at the end of his tether, he’s just thrown his badge in the river, when an unlikely client calls; his retirement plans are put on ice. He is swirled into an adventure in an abandoned house in the country (..typical Manchette..) where reinvented Palestinian activists and American mobsters cross swords by night. Down but not out, Tarpon makes his weary way back to Paris for the second part of the story, only to be tailed, abducted, and generally in peril from an assortment of movie directors, sociopaths, delinquents and murderers.
Though this is far from being in Manchette's usual style, it bears many of his trademarks; most evidently that his protagonists are loners, and realise their position during the novel. Here, Tarpon is exactly that, and once he realises it is quite happy, cocooned in his habits in the craziness of the city.
Its chief difference is that his stand-alones have more raw power, and at the end there is an abrupt halt, here with Tarpon, he holds back a little, there is after all a sequel, which I hope NYRB see there way to translating.
So it was particularly exciting that NYRB have chosen to reissue three of his lesser know work; firstly Ivory Pearl, which I read and reviewed last year, and now this, and Nada, which I have, but have yet to read.
This is something different to his others, which are genuine French noir - gritty, hard-hitting carnage leading to a brutal end. Here, as a type of tribute, he emulates the writing of Dashiell Hammett, clearly one of his key influences.
He introduces Eugène Tarpon, a disgraced former policeman, now a Private Investigator. It begins with Tarpon at the end of his tether, he’s just thrown his badge in the river, when an unlikely client calls; his retirement plans are put on ice. He is swirled into an adventure in an abandoned house in the country (..typical Manchette..) where reinvented Palestinian activists and American mobsters cross swords by night. Down but not out, Tarpon makes his weary way back to Paris for the second part of the story, only to be tailed, abducted, and generally in peril from an assortment of movie directors, sociopaths, delinquents and murderers.
Though this is far from being in Manchette's usual style, it bears many of his trademarks; most evidently that his protagonists are loners, and realise their position during the novel. Here, Tarpon is exactly that, and once he realises it is quite happy, cocooned in his habits in the craziness of the city.
Its chief difference is that his stand-alones have more raw power, and at the end there is an abrupt halt, here with Tarpon, he holds back a little, there is after all a sequel, which I hope NYRB see there way to translating.
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May 30, 2021Η κριτική του Γιώργου Ζώη στα Marginalia εδώ: https://marginalia.gr/arthro/nekrotom...
July 1, 2023
Διαφορετικός Μανσετ που ακροβατεί μετάξυ της παρωδίας και του δράματος σε έναν κόσμο χωρίς ελπιδα και καταραμένους "ηρωες".
Υ. Γ Η μετάφραση με προβληματα
Υ. Γ Η μετάφραση με προβληματα
February 3, 2021
Jean-Patrick Manchette’s pulp novels are now revived—at least, so it would seem from the hosannas from prominent writers that stud their New York Review of Books reissues—because he sprinkles his hardboiled mashups with allusions to Marxist politics. And yet, upon reading most of his work translated into English, one cannot come away from him without the sensation that this cat, who knows certain skeins of American jazz and knows American pulp fiction and movies, is precisely as much a revolutionary leftist as John Wayne. Possibly less, as the cultural cocoon Manchette lives in is very, very tight. One must concede that as winky postmodern mashups of private-eye fare go, this is livelier than INHERENT VICE.
October 10, 2025
I'd never heard of this writer, and in the name of reading respected writers from the past, I gave this a go. Well, it was just about the worst thing I've tried to read in ages. I sort of liked the setting of Paris in the 1970s, but that was about it. The detective is mostly a moron and a drunk. The "case" made little sense, and his "investigation" wasn't anything to write home about, or worthy of a novel.
November 23, 2022
A quick, really fun, dark read. Of course there are parts that haven't aged particularly well, but it's pretty much everything you'd want from a crime noir type of book.
July 24, 2024
This novel has not nearly as many corpses as the title implies. It makes up for it in jaded French post-colonial charm. It's got body bags full of that.
March 14, 2021
No Room at the Morgue is the latest English edition of French noir writer Jean-Patrick Machette’s work to be released through the NYRB Classic Literature series. The main character, Eugene Tarpon, is an ex-cop, kicked out of the police for accidentally killing a demonstrator at a left-wing rally. He spends his days drinking and running a failing PI business. Just as he thinks his life has reached rock bottom, an attractive woman engages his services to investigate the brutal murder of her female flatmate. This fast-paced read sees Tarpon sandwiched between the activities of radical leftists on the one hand and Mafia killers on the other, in addition to finding himself a police suspect in the crime. All fairly standard territory for Manchette. Not his strongest book – not a patch of Nada for example – but average Manchette is still pretty damn good.
June 8, 2021
A young woman is found dead by her flatmate in her Paris apartment, and disgraced former police officer (now private investigator) Eugène Tarpon is swept into the maelstrom of the case when the roommate comes to him for help. Apt comparisons abound that liken this novel to the work of Dashiell Hammett, and the translation bears that out; you sense that translator Alyson Waters studied the snappy, deliberate dialogue, pacing, and sardonic humor of the Sam Spade stories. But it's never derivative; the charged political atmosphere of France in the early 1970s bears that out. adding a layer of pessimism and postmodern psychology that I don't remember in The Maltese Falcon. A quick read that resolved itself unexpectedly, which was a plus.
December 16, 2021
This was a book I received on-loan from a friend and I decided to read it this week because it had been sitting on my shelf for too long and I want to return it. Frequent readers of mysteries will not be impressed by Eugene Tarpon, the former policeman who serves as the private detective main character in this story (and apparently others by the author). For example, when introduced to the affluent "crying man" after a convoluted journey, he does not guess that the man is sad, likely because he had a personal relationship to the murder victim. Indeed, the incompetence of the detective made be think that Manchette intentionally made him a weak character -- a disgraced ex-cop who once killed someone while on duty, willing to skirt the law in many ways during his investigation, and able to take credit for cracking the case only after the victim count soared -- in part because of his own deeds.
The book definitely has political vibes as the murder victim apparently associated with frustrated pro-Palestinian leftists who had embraced violence and became terrorists. Perhaps Manchette is making some grand statement about these leftists and the policemen who represent the state, but it likely requires a greater understanding of France in the early 1970s. The Afterward to the book suggests this explanation for the narrative.
The book definitely has political vibes as the murder victim apparently associated with frustrated pro-Palestinian leftists who had embraced violence and became terrorists. Perhaps Manchette is making some grand statement about these leftists and the policemen who represent the state, but it likely requires a greater understanding of France in the early 1970s. The Afterward to the book suggests this explanation for the narrative.
July 23, 2022
there’s a quote on the back of this book that says something like “if Marx, Freud, and Jim Thompson collaborated on a noir.” the whole time i was reading i was thinking “wheres freud??”
“..there he is.”
i think noirs are not so much my thing. the contrived plots, mysteries with no clues and baffling resolutions, and miserable washed-up protagonists fail to impress me. i didn’t like the resolution to this book (leaned too heavily on the freud), but i don’t like the resolutions to barely any noirs. what i did like, however, was the writing style. this prose was very smooth and easy to digest (i think the translator did a good job). it was also funny in a subtle way.
overall very middle of the road reading experience for me.
“..there he is.”
i think noirs are not so much my thing. the contrived plots, mysteries with no clues and baffling resolutions, and miserable washed-up protagonists fail to impress me. i didn’t like the resolution to this book (leaned too heavily on the freud), but i don’t like the resolutions to barely any noirs. what i did like, however, was the writing style. this prose was very smooth and easy to digest (i think the translator did a good job). it was also funny in a subtle way.
overall very middle of the road reading experience for me.
December 15, 2021
Δεν ξέρω αν φταίει η κάκιστη μετάφραση που ώρες ώρες νόμιζα ότι διαβάζω το κείμενο από το google translate ή και η άσχημη περίοδος που διάβασα το βιβλίο μιας κ δεν είχα ιδιαίτερο χρόνο και διάβαζα λίγες σελίδες την ημέρα κ δεν το απόλαυσα. Σίγουρα υπάρχει ο στακάτος και αιχμηρός λόγος του συγγραφέα, το σαρκαστικό του χιούμορ, όμως η υπόθεση χωλαίνει σε σημεία κ αν κ υπάρχουν φόνοι δεν υπάρχει το blood bath που τον χαρακτηρίζει. Στο φινάλε όπως πάντα υπάρχει μια αίσθηση μελαγχολίας. Με λυπεί το γεγονός ότι ενώ χάρηκα απίστευτα που ένα ακόμα βιβλίο του Mancette μεταφράστηκε κ κυκλοφόρησε στα ελληνικά δεν ήταν ανάλογο των προσδοκιών μου.
August 1, 2024
Down on his luck ex-gendarme Eugene Tarpon's failure to attract clients as a PI suddenly gains momentum when a sexy blood-covered dame bursts into his apartment seeking help to solve her room mate's grisly murder. From there, the plot speeds along to involve Arab terrorists, Italian Mafiosa, and a colorful assortment of characters. While the plot had enough wild surprises to keep me turning pages, Tarpon's alienated and pessimistic nihilism to the wild scenarios developing around him proved unexpectedly humorous. His messy ineptitude and recognition of the same to those around him never failed to amuse, resulting in laugh out loud moments.Rarely has a book drawn me in so quickly and kept my attention to the extent Manchette's book did. If this is a good example of French noir, it's a genre I'll be checking out more.
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