Daniel Quinn has rented a flat at the top of a high-rise block in Birmingham where he watches the same video over and over again, an old British film noir called Out of the Dark. This film holds some important information for him, something which will help him deal with recent tragic events in his life. But what is he looking for in this corny black and white B-flick?
Out of the Dark is an unsettling story of grief, obsession and duplicity. It is also about film noir itself, and as Daniel dissects the recurring motifs of his favourite film genre he reveals more about himself than he does about the movie. The edges of the film and real life begin to blur. Is Daniel being pulled into a similar whirlpool of deceit, corruption and violence?
This is one of those books where I spent a chunk of the first half thinking ‘hmm, not entirely convinced’ before finding myself much more won over by the end. I initially found our protagonist, Daniel Quinn, a non-ideal focal point for the novel: he’s dull and inert, can be unpleasant in his judgements of others, and so obsessed with motorways and watching traffic I thought it was going to be relevant to some secret from his past. (Not really; sometimes a man really does just love motorways.) The story also involves one of the most implausible children I have ever read about. But the thing that kept me reading was the fictitious film that gives the book its title. Out of the Dark is wonderfully realised – totally believable as a real forgotten British B-movie. Gaffney is particularly good at tying the setting of Birmingham into both the film and Quinn’s story.
The real surprise, though, is the final section of the book, part 3. Something interesting happens here; I’m sure this is recency bias, but there’s a narrative switch that reminded me of how everything comes together at the end of Ben Lerner’s Transcription. Quinn feels truly present and real for the first time, in such a way that I actually had to go back and check he had always been narrating in first person (he had). Here, the noir elements are more firmly embedded in the events surrounding Quinn, and it all becomes much more compelling – the whole thing acquires a drive and urgency that I’d been craving earlier on. I’m not sure I was ever fully persuaded by every aspect of it, but I liked where it ended up, and the ending itself is excellent. One of those novels that’s more interesting when considered as a whole than it sometimes feels while you’re reading it.
A cracking read! I was lucky enough to get a pre-publication copy when I met the author at a writers' retreat. I finished the book in a day - the first time I had done that in a while. I was gripped. The protagonist was highly relatable and lovably weird (and also, at times, just weird). We learn at the start (or from the cover) about the first-person protagonist's obsession with a particular 1962 film noire ("Out of the Dark"). The film and his obsession hold the first half of the book together beautifully. I found myself feeling the inside of the skin of the characters. The plot rocked along - the book feels (appropriately enough) highly cinematic. The second half of the book was a wonderful ride with characters that felt well rounded (yet spiky).
I'll never feel quite the same way about the M5/M6 intersection again.
I usually give away books after reading them (I only keep math textbooks, go figure). This is a choice gem to send out to a good friend.
I greatly enjoyed this literary neo-noir novel within which the fictional film of the title bleeds into the protagonist's life to great effect. The writing is excellent, and the themes are perfectly suited to the style. There's some humour in here, but tragedy too. The characterisation is also strong. This kind of book feels like it was written for me, covering all my favourite aspects of the genre. Not only that, but it's beautifully presented by the publisher and is very tactile to hold. Highly recommended.