The Scarlet Venus

by Chalmers Green

A wickedly subversive, unpredictable and powerful hard-boiled masterpiece...lost for generations, now rediscovered. Soldier McQuade is a prizefighter in New York who goes back to his rural home when his widowed sister-in-law dies, leaving behind two kids. He's accompanied by Tennessee Bell, his other sister-in-law, who is on the run from a violent lover. But that simple, seemingly conventional starting point doesn't begin to do this story justice... and to say more would spoil the stunning plot twists that veer shockingly away from every cliche. "A must-read for noir fans! More than sixty years after it was published, this book remains an exhilarating, wildly creative take on all the tropes and cliches of noir that, at the time, weren't tropes or cliches yet. It's hard to believe Chalmers Green didn't write another book or become famous. Or did he under another name? It's an intriguing mystery." -- Lee Goldberg, #1 New York Times bestselling author. "There's a kind of crazy brilliance to it. The writing style is hypnotic, assiduous about imagery, rich with lively internalization, all of which are artfully considered and delivered with an increasingly gripping pace. Chalmers Green, whoever he is or was, serves up some serious juice." -- David Spencer, from his Introduction

180 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1952

Reviews

[Dave · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Blues

"The Scarlet Venus" is a republication of an original Gold Medal pulp, one of those incredible last gems few recall or even heard of. But it's dripping with pulpy goodness. It's a story centered around two lost souls who've got the blues real bad. One's a boxer in the big city who married the rich society girl, but it's been no damn good for either of them. The other is a mistress to a rich gent with a twisted relationship with his goons. Her name is Tennessee and she knows she's all twisted up inside. No matter how beautiful and beguiling she is on the outside, deep in the inside it hurts so bad nothing can ever make it right. And, if it isn't wrong to begin with, she'll screw it up so it's all wrong.

This us one of those novels that really isn't about the plot as much as it's about these characters and the dark clouds they carry with them. As the introduction explains, it's impossible now to figure out the author's true name or whether he ever published anything else, but it would be do good if there was more of this out there. The prose is terrific. The writing is quite a few steps above an ordinary paperback thriller.

[WJEP · Rating 3 out of 5]

Here is something else published in 1952:
Report of the Select Committee on Current Pornographic Materials, House of Representatives, Eighty-second Congress.

"The so-called pocket-size books, which originally started out as cheap reprints of standard works, have largely degenerated into media for the dissemination of artful appeals to sensuality, immorality, filth, perversion, and degeneracy."

Those congressmen would have disapproved of this book.

"Boxer, Lesbian, minister, killer. How do you like that for a foursome?"

Tennessee, the titular redhead, seduced them all and wrecked them all.

The degeneracy didn't bother me as much as the flamboyant weather reports that pop up on every page:

"The sun like a bloody disk had dipped down into the blue water far, far out, and the lake wind, blowing in the curtains of Tennessee’s bedroom, had an edge now."

One more thing: Why does one of the gangsters have a pet rooster named Mike?

[Steven · Rating 5 out of 5]

Not sure if this is a literary novel hiding inside of a noir or the other way around. Either way, this slice of pulp fiction from 1952 is quite a find. Full of brooding atmosphere and gothic intensity. The wind and rain symbolism might be a bit overdone, even so, the pulsing weather mimics the rage with which these characters are consumed. So much of the narrative is from within and the cacophony of their distress is a full-throated symphony that can't be tuned out. Nits could be picked, but this is a scalding beaut of literary noir.

[Alonzo Church · Rating 1 out of 5]

Hi, I’m Tennessee, the Scarlet Venus of the title. Stupid name, huh? This author really had it in for me. Really, he makes me a lush red head and man magnet (and lesbian magnet, too) so I ought to be having fun. But mostly I drink and get tied up with wrong men and corrupt any right man I bump into ( feeding the preacher man some of my special cigarettes was a hoot). My liver ought to be ten times its normal size and I ought to be just a stupid floozy on the bar room floor. But, since I am the creature of some Vargas girl crazed anonymous hack, I look like Rita Hayworth and am fresh each morning even if I kept it going all night long.

Yes, I am a goddess — the title says so. But what good does it do me. A boxer falls in all consuming lust with me and he’s a good man with money. I cheat on him with a lady sculptor and one of the cheap hoods my last boyfriend sent after me. Then I get the local priest high and drunk. Not surprising that a lot of people have problems with me. It’s pretty likely I’ll end up dead and not from old age.

This author who made me. He’s just a sadist like that old millionaire I start this book with. He makes me some silly life force — I inspire the heck out of that mannish lady sculptor. So much that we have a Gold Medal paperback naughty moment, after she sculpts my life force in the nude. And whenever I manage some Goddess or life force like thinking — it starts raining. How dumb is that? Who looks sexy while getting soaked in a cloudburst?

Oh, and I am really super talented piano player and singer. Do I make any money? Nope. But it’s all symbolic and gives a chance for my hack of creator to wrap me in some supersonic prose.

Look, maybe you want to spend some time with me. But I’m a bad girl in a cheap book. You’ll have regrets and a hangover. Find yourself a nice Miss Marple mystery instead. You have been warned and I’m the girl who knows.