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The Expendable Man
“It was surprising what old experiences remembered could do to a presumably educated, civilized man.” And Hugh Denismore, a young doctor driving his mother’s Cadillac from Los Angeles to Phoenix, is eminently educated and civilized. He is privileged, would seem to have the world at his feet, even. Then why does the sight of a few redneck teenagers disconcert him? Why is he reluctant to pick up a disheveled girl hitchhiking along the desert highway? And why is he the first person the police suspect when she is found dead in Arizona a few days later?
Dorothy B. Hughes ranks with Raymond Chandler and Patricia Highsmith as a master of mid-century noir. In books like In a Lonely Place and Ride the Pink Horse, she exposed a seething discontent underneath the veneer of twentieth-century prosperity. With The Expendable Man, first published in 1963, Hughes upends the conventions of the wrong-man narrative to deliver a story that engages readers even as it implicates them in the greatest of all American crimes.
Dorothy B. Hughes ranks with Raymond Chandler and Patricia Highsmith as a master of mid-century noir. In books like In a Lonely Place and Ride the Pink Horse, she exposed a seething discontent underneath the veneer of twentieth-century prosperity. With The Expendable Man, first published in 1963, Hughes upends the conventions of the wrong-man narrative to deliver a story that engages readers even as it implicates them in the greatest of all American crimes.
339 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1963
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About the author
Dorothy B. Hughes
66 books299 followersDorothy B. Hughes (1904–1993) was a mystery author and literary critic. Born in Kansas City, she studied at Columbia University, and won an award from the Yale Series of Younger Poets for her first book, the poetry collection Dark Certainty (1931). After writing several unsuccessful manuscripts, she published The So Blue Marble in 1940. A New York–based mystery, it won praise for its hardboiled prose, which was due, in part, to Hughes’s editor, who demanded she cut 25,000 words from the book.
Hughes published thirteen more novels, the best known of which are In a Lonely Place (1947) and Ride the Pink Horse (1946). Both were made into successful films. In the early fifties, Hughes largely stopped writing fiction, preferring to focus on criticism, for which she would go on to win an Edgar Award. In 1978, the Mystery Writers of America presented Hughes with the Grand Master Award for literary achievement.
Hughes published thirteen more novels, the best known of which are In a Lonely Place (1947) and Ride the Pink Horse (1946). Both were made into successful films. In the early fifties, Hughes largely stopped writing fiction, preferring to focus on criticism, for which she would go on to win an Edgar Award. In 1978, the Mystery Writers of America presented Hughes with the Grand Master Award for literary achievement.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 539 reviews
October 12, 2022
Because I hate spoilers, but also have a visceral loathing for spoiler alerts, I can’t say much about this wonderful book without giving too much of it away. But if I’m careful, I think I can say something.
It tells us the story of Hugh Densmore, a young doctor with an internship at U.C.L.A., who—in the summer of 1962—is driving through the New Mexico desert on his way to a niece’s wedding in Phoenix. Against his better judgment, he picks up a young girl hitchhiking in an isolated spot, and this one act, innocent though imprudent, eventually leads him to be suspected of murder.
At first, it is hard to like Hugh, for, although he is an upright, well-behaved young man, he seems overly scrupulous, too concerned with appearances and affronts to his dignity to be a sympathetic character. But then, about a quarter of the way through the novel, we learn one simple fact about Hugh which Dorothy Hughes has been withholding from her reader, and this fact makes us look at Hugh’s character and his dilemma from a different angle.
Viewed in one way, Hughes’ authorial reticence is a detective writer’s stunt, similar to Christie’s celebrated omission in The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, but it is really much richer than that. It is an opportunity for the reader to reevaluate his assumptions and prejudices, and to see the facts in the case of Hugh Densmore—indeed American society itself—from an entirely new perspective.
Dorothy B. Hughes is well known, at least among mystery buffs, as the author of the novel In a Lonely Place, which was adapted into a memorable—but very different—movie. But this book is just as good—perhaps better—and should be remembered as well.
April 28, 2021
If you could change one decision you made in your life, what would it be? I suspect we all could come up with an instance of "Oh, if I only knew then what I know now!" Well, Dorothy B. Hughes 1962 noir crime novel The Expendable Man features one Dr. Hugh Densmore who knows exactly what decision he would change. Driving from the UCLA Medical Center in Los Angeles where he is a resident physician across the desert to Phoenix for a family wedding, Dr. Hugh, playing the part of mister nice guy, takes pity on a young girl hitchhiking way out in the desert, fifteen miles away from the nearest small town.
In spite of knowing he shouldn’t risk it, aware of all the potential dangers, in his own mind at the time, Hugh did the right thing. We read, “He realized that this was a young girl. From the glimpse, a teen-age girl. Even as he slowed his car, he was against doing it. But her possible peril if left here alone forced his hand. He simply could not in conscience go on, leaving her abandoned, with twilight fallen and night quick to come. He had sisters as young as this. It chilled him to think what might happen if one of them were abandoned on the lonesome highway, the type of man with whom, in desperation, she might accept a lift.” Oh, Hugh, if you only knew then what was to follow.
However, The Expendable Man is much more than a crime story. The early 1960s, when this novel was published, was a time of great change and transition in the United States, particularly in three areas: race, class and gender, especially race. Dorothy B. Hughes writes with exceptional skill in setting the scene, drawing her characters and orchestrating the action, and all with keen insight into the prevailing racial, social, cultural tensions and prejudices of the time. I wouldn’t want to say anything further about the actual story so as to spoil. But I will say that, for me, reading this novel sets my all-time personal reading record: 245 pages in one day. "I couldn’t put the book down until I finished" sounds like a cliché, but with The Expendable Man this is precisely what happened.
This New York Review Book (NYRB) classic includes a most insightful Afterward by Walter Mosely. Mr. Mosley not only speaks to the novel’s themes but also his own and his family’s experience dealing with issues of race in the United States. A novel and an essay not to be missed.
December 21, 2021
I was taught well before I ever had my driver's license that I should never pick up a hitchhiker. Hitchhikers, my parents would tell me, could be dangerous. You just never knew. Terrible things could happen to someone who thinks they are just being a good samaritan.
Hugh Densmore has a suspicion when he sees a homely girl alone in the desert, that he shouldn't stop his car. But hey, it was 1963, and maybe Hugh's mother hadn't taught him the adage that no good deed goes unpunished.
He picks her up. His life is never the same again.
I won't say much more about the plot of this book, for fear of spoiling. Let's just say that Dorothy B. Hughes plays with her readers' assumptions for the first 50 or so pages, and then reveals something important that shapes the rest of the narrative in a meaningful way.
Although I suspected early on what she was doing, I admire her purpose. I admire her ability to write from a point of view that is clearly not her own. I admire how she trains her lens on racial realities for certain people in 1960s America.
On the back cover of my NYRB edition, Dorothy B. Hughes is compared to Patricia Highsmith and Raymond Chandler, as a master of mid-century noir. I do take a bit of exception to this. While I guess you could make an argument for Hughes as a noir writer (others have), I have to say that this seemed like more of a straightforward crime novel for me. This isn't a complaint, per se, although I prefer to read psychological suspense drenched in noir rather than something that is as clear-cut as The Expendable Man.
In noir, the lines between good and bad are often blurry. You end up rooting for someone who does dubious things. In noir, the endings are often dark and tragic.
Hughes' book is very different. Her protagonist is always good, always trying to do the right thing, innocent and well-meaning, responsible and moral and brave. All the good people are decidedly good, and all the bad people are simply vile. There's not much complexity or grey area in this regard. As for the ending, it's tidy, just, and even ties the strings of romance into a pretty bow.
Again, this isn't really a complaint, it's probably more a matter of personal taste. Despite my reservations, I do believe The Expendable Man is interesting, compelling, and socially important. It's a competent crime novel that deserves a wider readership. And it also confirms everything that my parents taught me about hitchhikers.
3.5 stars
Hugh Densmore has a suspicion when he sees a homely girl alone in the desert, that he shouldn't stop his car. But hey, it was 1963, and maybe Hugh's mother hadn't taught him the adage that no good deed goes unpunished.
He picks her up. His life is never the same again.
I won't say much more about the plot of this book, for fear of spoiling. Let's just say that Dorothy B. Hughes plays with her readers' assumptions for the first 50 or so pages, and then reveals something important that shapes the rest of the narrative in a meaningful way.
Although I suspected early on what she was doing, I admire her purpose. I admire her ability to write from a point of view that is clearly not her own. I admire how she trains her lens on racial realities for certain people in 1960s America.
On the back cover of my NYRB edition, Dorothy B. Hughes is compared to Patricia Highsmith and Raymond Chandler, as a master of mid-century noir. I do take a bit of exception to this. While I guess you could make an argument for Hughes as a noir writer (others have), I have to say that this seemed like more of a straightforward crime novel for me. This isn't a complaint, per se, although I prefer to read psychological suspense drenched in noir rather than something that is as clear-cut as The Expendable Man.
In noir, the lines between good and bad are often blurry. You end up rooting for someone who does dubious things. In noir, the endings are often dark and tragic.
Hughes' book is very different. Her protagonist is always good, always trying to do the right thing, innocent and well-meaning, responsible and moral and brave. All the good people are decidedly good, and all the bad people are simply vile. There's not much complexity or grey area in this regard. As for the ending, it's tidy, just, and even ties the strings of romance into a pretty bow.
Again, this isn't really a complaint, it's probably more a matter of personal taste. Despite my reservations, I do believe The Expendable Man is interesting, compelling, and socially important. It's a competent crime novel that deserves a wider readership. And it also confirms everything that my parents taught me about hitchhikers.
3.5 stars
May 15, 2018
Much has been said about this novel, and there's much I can't say without spoiling things, so let me keep this short and somewhat annoyingly abstract. This is an incredibly prescient novel written at a time of simmering racial tension in the US (though sadly that's probably been true of every time in US history). The prose has all the gleaming precision of poetry, which is not surprising given that Dorothy Hughes' first book was a volume of verse, part of the Yale Younger Poets series. The noir-ish plot is pretty straightforward, but it's the X-ray focus on the characters and the unblinking exposition of the ugly racist undercurrents of nearly every aspect of social life that really make this book special.
May 29, 2022
Another excellent book by Dorothy Hughes, The Expendable Man, although written in the 1960s, is pertinent to today's treatment of the disenfranchised by the police. I didn't peruse too much about this before reading it, so I was unsure why the young man felt such trepidation at picking up a young girl who was hitchhiking. Usually, it's the hitchhiker who is in danger from the driver, but not this time. This one act almost destroys Hugh's life. Pretty soon, he is in deep trouble and only has himself and a beautiful woman he's just met to help him.
March 20, 2023
When I first heard of this book, it was accompanied with the caveat that nothing could be said about it without it being a spoiler. After finishing the book, I believe what the speaker meant is that the first fifty pages or so could be spoiled. In this beginning Hughes masterfully creates unease for the reader, as the reader goes about her business negotiating the unease of the main character Hugh (I just realized how similar those two names are), and all done with a serious point.
Based on "a clue" outside the text, I’d figured out the source of Hugh’s unease before starting it. With that knowledge, I could see how clever — and sensitive — Hughes’s prose is without rereading the early pages (not that that would’ve been a problem). In comparison to In a Lonely Place, the only other book of hers I’ve read, this is a more straightforward “mystery.” Especially near the end, it includes some tropes that generally keep me away from the genre, but the book holds as much depth as the other, if not more.
Throughout my read, I imagined how early readers might’ve felt as they experienced the book — and it is an experience. I’m reminded of Lolly Willowes only in that I have the same advice for maximum impact: Stay away from reviews.
Based on "a clue" outside the text, I’d figured out the source of Hugh’s unease before starting it. With that knowledge, I could see how clever — and sensitive — Hughes’s prose is without rereading the early pages (not that that would’ve been a problem). In comparison to In a Lonely Place, the only other book of hers I’ve read, this is a more straightforward “mystery.” Especially near the end, it includes some tropes that generally keep me away from the genre, but the book holds as much depth as the other, if not more.
Throughout my read, I imagined how early readers might’ve felt as they experienced the book — and it is an experience. I’m reminded of Lolly Willowes only in that I have the same advice for maximum impact: Stay away from reviews.
March 3, 2022
I assumed this was a noir-ish story with a psychological bent, having read one of the author's other novels. And so it seemed at the start. By page three the protagonist, a young doctor if still an intern, picks up a young (15 or 16, he guesses) girl hitchhiker on his way from California to Arizona for a family wedding. He kind of senses this is a bad idea, but he just can't leave her there. The foreboding hooked me straightaway.
The girl will wind up dead soon enough and the young doctor will be a convenient suspect, even though we readers believe him innocent. We expect twists and turns that will entertain but not unduly disturb a cross-country flight.
Inevitably, two detectives come to the doctor's motel room. Ask some questions. They ask him if he's curious why they're there, interviewing him. He is, of course. They tell him they had an anonymous call. Then this:
This guy says a n______ doc driving a big white Cadillac brought Bonnie Lee to Phoenix. (My edit).
Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Put your tray table up. This changes everything.
I love how the author lets us read 55 pages before exploding a bomb: the protagonist is Black. Maybe I was being inattentive until then. (And, please read that last sentence as you will.) But that sentence changed everything. There's the resolution of the whodunit; but there's also the smoldering.
Yes, things have changed (this was published in 1963). Overt racism has (mostly) gone the way of phone booths and warrantless searches. Still, the perception lingers. And maybe it's a telling, like this, that informs and educates the walking (or driving) in someone else's shoes; more so than a screed.
The girl will wind up dead soon enough and the young doctor will be a convenient suspect, even though we readers believe him innocent. We expect twists and turns that will entertain but not unduly disturb a cross-country flight.
Inevitably, two detectives come to the doctor's motel room. Ask some questions. They ask him if he's curious why they're there, interviewing him. He is, of course. They tell him they had an anonymous call. Then this:
This guy says a n______ doc driving a big white Cadillac brought Bonnie Lee to Phoenix. (My edit).
Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Put your tray table up. This changes everything.
I love how the author lets us read 55 pages before exploding a bomb: the protagonist is Black. Maybe I was being inattentive until then. (And, please read that last sentence as you will.) But that sentence changed everything. There's the resolution of the whodunit; but there's also the smoldering.
Yes, things have changed (this was published in 1963). Overt racism has (mostly) gone the way of phone booths and warrantless searches. Still, the perception lingers. And maybe it's a telling, like this, that informs and educates the walking (or driving) in someone else's shoes; more so than a screed.
July 4, 2012
9781590174951
NYRB Classics, 2012
originally published 1963
245 pp
My favorite fiction is the edgy, gritty kind where some poor guy, for some reason or another, gets drawn into a hopelessly screwed-up situation and finds that it just keeps getting worse, despite everything he does to try to escape. These kinds of stories start off innocuously enough, but within just a very short time the tension starts to build, joined by a restlessness and a sense of growing trepidation, neither of which let up until the last page. This is precisely what I look for when I pick up a crime novel, and this is exactly what I got in Dorothy B. Hughes' The Expendable Man. What happens in this novel is nothing less than one man's nightmare played out over the course of a few days of his life; between the lines Hughes pens her own insights into issues pertinent to the time & place of this novel's setting.
Dr. Hugh Densmore is an intern at UCLA, and he's left the city to be with his family for his sister's upcoming wedding in Phoenix. In his mother's borrowed car, he's making his way through the desert highway and notices a hitchhiker along the side of the road. Normally, he "knew better" than to stop for hitchhikers, but this time it's different -- leaving the young, teenaged girl at the side of the road just wasn't something his conscience isn't going to allow him to do:
"He had sisters as young as this. It chilled him to think what might happen if one them were abandoned on the lonesome highway, the type of man with whom, in desperation, she might accept a lift."
Although initially he'd planned to leave her at the border before crossing the state line into Arizona, that plan backfires and he takes her on into Phoenix. He drops her off at the bus station and she's gone. But after a surprise visit to his hotel room that same night, the next day he hears an announcement on the radio about an unidentified girl. Grabbing the newspaper, he discovers that the body of a young girl has been found in a nearby Scottsdale canal. He quickly discards any idea of helping the police identify her, but later an anonymous tip sends the cops to him -- as a suspect. He hides the situation from his family and tells the police the bare outlines of his story, but he's just certain that they're going to pin the girl's murder on him. They delay an arrest, but growing ever more paranoid that it's going to happen at any moment, he spills everything to Ellen, a family friend in town for the wedding, and Densmore sets out to prove his innocence. He has to prove that it wasn't him before they take lock him away for good -- "because of circumstance," he has been tagged as the "sacrificial goat," and he knows it. But time is ticking and no one but Ellen believes him.
A taut, thoroughly convincing and highly atmospheric novel, The Expendable Man is a classic "wrongly-accused-man" story with a bit of a twist that adds an extra layer of reader tension when it dawns on you exactly what's going on. Hughes is superb at plotting and pace; her descriptions of the Arizona desert are spot on. For example, in describing a ride through the desert night, she writes:
"The moon was high and white; each fence post, each clump of cactus was as distinctly outlined as by the sun. The mountains were moon-gray against the deep night sky. A dog barked from a distant house, the only reminder that they were not on a distant planet."
The atmosphere she creates with phrases like these reflection Densmore's own isolation throughout the story.
Her characters and dialogue are all believable as well, but beyond the normal components of this kind of fiction, Hughes also incorporates people from different walks of life into her story, all the while scrutinizing American attitudes regarding race, socio-economic status and crime in the early 1960s.
The Expendable Man is among the best books I've read all year, and I can't recommend it enough. Sure, the wrongly-accused-man thing has been done before and for many modern readers used to the gimmicky serial killer type reads that top the charts today, it might come across as a little tame in the crime area. But this book goes well beyond just another novel of crime fiction, spilling into the realm where empathy takes over -- the reader remains trapped in Densmore's nightmare just as much as he is. That's how much power Hughes has over her audience. And I loved every second of it.
NYRB Classics, 2012
originally published 1963
245 pp
My favorite fiction is the edgy, gritty kind where some poor guy, for some reason or another, gets drawn into a hopelessly screwed-up situation and finds that it just keeps getting worse, despite everything he does to try to escape. These kinds of stories start off innocuously enough, but within just a very short time the tension starts to build, joined by a restlessness and a sense of growing trepidation, neither of which let up until the last page. This is precisely what I look for when I pick up a crime novel, and this is exactly what I got in Dorothy B. Hughes' The Expendable Man. What happens in this novel is nothing less than one man's nightmare played out over the course of a few days of his life; between the lines Hughes pens her own insights into issues pertinent to the time & place of this novel's setting.
Dr. Hugh Densmore is an intern at UCLA, and he's left the city to be with his family for his sister's upcoming wedding in Phoenix. In his mother's borrowed car, he's making his way through the desert highway and notices a hitchhiker along the side of the road. Normally, he "knew better" than to stop for hitchhikers, but this time it's different -- leaving the young, teenaged girl at the side of the road just wasn't something his conscience isn't going to allow him to do:
"He had sisters as young as this. It chilled him to think what might happen if one them were abandoned on the lonesome highway, the type of man with whom, in desperation, she might accept a lift."
Although initially he'd planned to leave her at the border before crossing the state line into Arizona, that plan backfires and he takes her on into Phoenix. He drops her off at the bus station and she's gone. But after a surprise visit to his hotel room that same night, the next day he hears an announcement on the radio about an unidentified girl. Grabbing the newspaper, he discovers that the body of a young girl has been found in a nearby Scottsdale canal. He quickly discards any idea of helping the police identify her, but later an anonymous tip sends the cops to him -- as a suspect. He hides the situation from his family and tells the police the bare outlines of his story, but he's just certain that they're going to pin the girl's murder on him. They delay an arrest, but growing ever more paranoid that it's going to happen at any moment, he spills everything to Ellen, a family friend in town for the wedding, and Densmore sets out to prove his innocence. He has to prove that it wasn't him before they take lock him away for good -- "because of circumstance," he has been tagged as the "sacrificial goat," and he knows it. But time is ticking and no one but Ellen believes him.
A taut, thoroughly convincing and highly atmospheric novel, The Expendable Man is a classic "wrongly-accused-man" story with a bit of a twist that adds an extra layer of reader tension when it dawns on you exactly what's going on. Hughes is superb at plotting and pace; her descriptions of the Arizona desert are spot on. For example, in describing a ride through the desert night, she writes:
"The moon was high and white; each fence post, each clump of cactus was as distinctly outlined as by the sun. The mountains were moon-gray against the deep night sky. A dog barked from a distant house, the only reminder that they were not on a distant planet."
The atmosphere she creates with phrases like these reflection Densmore's own isolation throughout the story.
Her characters and dialogue are all believable as well, but beyond the normal components of this kind of fiction, Hughes also incorporates people from different walks of life into her story, all the while scrutinizing American attitudes regarding race, socio-economic status and crime in the early 1960s.
The Expendable Man is among the best books I've read all year, and I can't recommend it enough. Sure, the wrongly-accused-man thing has been done before and for many modern readers used to the gimmicky serial killer type reads that top the charts today, it might come across as a little tame in the crime area. But this book goes well beyond just another novel of crime fiction, spilling into the realm where empathy takes over -- the reader remains trapped in Densmore's nightmare just as much as he is. That's how much power Hughes has over her audience. And I loved every second of it.
April 21, 2017
(3.5) Suppose you live in a time where your race defines what type of person you are.
Suppose you live in a place where your race defines how people perceive you.
Suppose you are of a race that is looked down upon by a supposed superior one.
With the criteria above, does that make you expendable? Does that make you a good 'john' to frame for a murder? In the case of Dr. Hugh Densmore, it does.
This noir/mystery/thriller doesn't have any true twists or turns that make you think, 'hmmmm????', yet it will keep your attention all the way until the end. In a genre mostly dominated by men, Dorothy B. Hughes takes a situation that would be common in the early to mid part of the 20th century and presents it through her intelligent characters and not-so intelligent ones. As I thought William Styron did a good job of writing from the perspective of a black slave in 'Nat Turner', I think it's quite a feat for Hughes to write from the perspective of an African-American during the civil rights era and do it well.
This book was written in the 1960's, but could've very well been written today.
Suppose you live in a place where your race defines how people perceive you.
Suppose you are of a race that is looked down upon by a supposed superior one.
With the criteria above, does that make you expendable? Does that make you a good 'john' to frame for a murder? In the case of Dr. Hugh Densmore, it does.
This noir/mystery/thriller doesn't have any true twists or turns that make you think, 'hmmmm????', yet it will keep your attention all the way until the end. In a genre mostly dominated by men, Dorothy B. Hughes takes a situation that would be common in the early to mid part of the 20th century and presents it through her intelligent characters and not-so intelligent ones. As I thought William Styron did a good job of writing from the perspective of a black slave in 'Nat Turner', I think it's quite a feat for Hughes to write from the perspective of an African-American during the civil rights era and do it well.
This book was written in the 1960's, but could've very well been written today.
September 16, 2023
The Expendable Man by Dorothy Hughes with an Afterward by Walter Mosley is a powerful book, that is as relevant today as it was 60 years ago when it was written.
I can’t possibly do this book Justice with a review. That being said, this book UNNERVED ME. I felt the stress, the pressure, the stifling heat, each bead of sweat, the racial tension and the need to prove innocence.
To me this Novel is less about the murder of a teenage girl and more about the how equality is a façade in the throes of Justice. The author surprised me at some point (won’t say which) and I almost re-read all the pages with my new perspective.
Mosley wrote, “The poison this too-little heralded writer uncovers is as lethal as arsenic.”
This is a MUST READ for noir lovers & I recommend going in blind !!
I can’t possibly do this book Justice with a review. That being said, this book UNNERVED ME. I felt the stress, the pressure, the stifling heat, each bead of sweat, the racial tension and the need to prove innocence.
To me this Novel is less about the murder of a teenage girl and more about the how equality is a façade in the throes of Justice. The author surprised me at some point (won’t say which) and I almost re-read all the pages with my new perspective.
Mosley wrote, “The poison this too-little heralded writer uncovers is as lethal as arsenic.”
This is a MUST READ for noir lovers & I recommend going in blind !!
July 19, 2021
4.5 Stars.
Noir mystery at its finest!
This book had me on edge within the first few pages. This is one of those books that the less known about it, the better for the reader. So, I am not going to say much other than Dorothy B. Hughes wrote a masterful novel, with an incredible twist that had me stunned.
If you plan to read this book, don’t read reviews till after you are done. So many spoiled the twist, which is so annoying. This book is known for it, as you don’t see it coming.
Definitely read this one if you like the genre.
PUB: 1963
Noir mystery at its finest!
This book had me on edge within the first few pages. This is one of those books that the less known about it, the better for the reader. So, I am not going to say much other than Dorothy B. Hughes wrote a masterful novel, with an incredible twist that had me stunned.
If you plan to read this book, don’t read reviews till after you are done. So many spoiled the twist, which is so annoying. This book is known for it, as you don’t see it coming.
Definitely read this one if you like the genre.
PUB: 1963
June 23, 2018
Dated, frustrating, slow and dull, "innocent man framed" bull crap. Plus a "twist" which is painfully dated now. Condescending in an unknowingly superior, "preachy" way. Stupid plot events, clichéd characters, unlikely actions.
I felt manipulated from page 10.
Hated it.
I felt manipulated from page 10.
Hated it.
January 3, 2021
WOW. This book is stunningly good - thrilling, fast-paced, and incredibly well-written. It's a book that you should know very little about before you start reading. It's set in 1960s Arizona and follows Hugh Denmore, who is accused of a crime that he didn't commit. All you need to know is that if you like noir, classic mystery, or novels with a strong sense of place, you will like this book. I devoured it. Is it too early to start listing my favorite books of 2021??
November 30, 2012
Sometime in the late 1950s or early '60s, young Dr. Hugh Densmore is driving his mother's Caddliac from Los Angeles to Phoenix to attend a family wedding. Just outside of Indio, he discovers a young girl along the side of the road, apparently hoping to catch a ride. Anyone with a lick of brains, and certainly anyone who reads crime fiction understands that offering this girl a ride would be a really dumb thing to do.
It is. But Densmore does it anyway and then, of course, must spend the rest of the book struggling against mounting odds, attempting to escape the trouble in which he now finds himself.
It's virtually impossible to say anything about the story because there is no way to avoid revealing a crucial piece of information that might spoil the story for a reader. Suffice it to say that crimes will occur; Densmore will be the principal suspect, and he will find himself in a world of trouble.
The book is set in Phoenix and as a resident of the Valley, it was fun to read Hughes' descriptions of the city in that era. Also, this is a suspenseful story. But it fell short for me because the characters were sometimes hard to take seriously and they often behaved in ways that seemed to make no sense.
I love a good story in which the protagonist, through no fault of his or her own, is caught up in terrible circumstances beyond their control and then must struggle to extricate themselves from these difficulties. In this case, though, Dunsmore sets the whole thing in motion by picking up the hitchhiking girl in the first place, even though he knows it's a very risky thing to do.
It might be argued that he's simply doing the humanitarian thing, but he did have other more sensible options. At a minimum, if the girl had been injured or was somehow in danger, he could have picked her up, driven her fifteen miles back to Indio, and turned her over to the sheriff's office. But to invite her into his car and then cart her all the way to Phoenix is simply asking for trouble, and this made it difficult for me to sympathize with him when that trouble inevitably developed.
It is. But Densmore does it anyway and then, of course, must spend the rest of the book struggling against mounting odds, attempting to escape the trouble in which he now finds himself.
It's virtually impossible to say anything about the story because there is no way to avoid revealing a crucial piece of information that might spoil the story for a reader. Suffice it to say that crimes will occur; Densmore will be the principal suspect, and he will find himself in a world of trouble.
The book is set in Phoenix and as a resident of the Valley, it was fun to read Hughes' descriptions of the city in that era. Also, this is a suspenseful story. But it fell short for me because the characters were sometimes hard to take seriously and they often behaved in ways that seemed to make no sense.
I love a good story in which the protagonist, through no fault of his or her own, is caught up in terrible circumstances beyond their control and then must struggle to extricate themselves from these difficulties. In this case, though, Dunsmore sets the whole thing in motion by picking up the hitchhiking girl in the first place, even though he knows it's a very risky thing to do.
It might be argued that he's simply doing the humanitarian thing, but he did have other more sensible options. At a minimum, if the girl had been injured or was somehow in danger, he could have picked her up, driven her fifteen miles back to Indio, and turned her over to the sheriff's office. But to invite her into his car and then cart her all the way to Phoenix is simply asking for trouble, and this made it difficult for me to sympathize with him when that trouble inevitably developed.
June 4, 2021
Having read and enjoyed Hughes 1947 classic of fog and highballs - In a Lonely Place I was interested in trying more of this, underappreciated, authors work.
The Expendable Man is set in the suffocating heat and simmering racial tensions of 1960s Arizona. The book is very much of the period and yet a few tweaks and it could be a story lifted from today's headlines. It an extraordinary forward-looking work for a book published in 1963. Hughes accomplishes a rather neat authorial trick early on in the story, that is probably the one aspect that will stay with me from this reading experience.
This novel is a curiosity on many fronts but ultimately lacks the tension and strong voice of In a Lonely Place . For every interesting social observation, there is an over-abundance of driving around the streets of Phoenix and creeping up to lanai doors. ( I had to look up what exactly a lanai was ). The problem aside from pacing might be the characters seemed forced into their roles somehow, the dialogue a little wooden, but that might be just that hard-boiled style.
Certainly worth a read but don't expect a riveting murder mystery
The Expendable Man is set in the suffocating heat and simmering racial tensions of 1960s Arizona. The book is very much of the period and yet a few tweaks and it could be a story lifted from today's headlines. It an extraordinary forward-looking work for a book published in 1963. Hughes accomplishes a rather neat authorial trick early on in the story, that is probably the one aspect that will stay with me from this reading experience.
This novel is a curiosity on many fronts but ultimately lacks the tension and strong voice of In a Lonely Place . For every interesting social observation, there is an over-abundance of driving around the streets of Phoenix and creeping up to lanai doors. ( I had to look up what exactly a lanai was ). The problem aside from pacing might be the characters seemed forced into their roles somehow, the dialogue a little wooden, but that might be just that hard-boiled style.
Certainly worth a read but don't expect a riveting murder mystery
October 13, 2018
Venner departed with the hate still ugly in his eyes, with more hate for an innocent Hugh than for a guilty. The Venners would not be changed in their generation.
I'm not going to provide many plot details for this book as I found it hugely beneficial to know next to nothing about this book.
Every reveal, every additional detail that Hughes affords the reader changed the context of the story and how I read this. She did this masterfully.
It is very much a story of telling you the facts, then changing one little thing, and suddenly the same facts appear different, more complex, more ... prone to consequence.
Suddenly we get to understand why Hugh, our MC, is eager to keep his head down, does not want to engage, does not want to stand up for himself. It's because he can't. The Expendable Man tells a story of oppression (in more ways than one as we learn throughout the story) taking place in broad daylight.
I was angry for Hugh, for his helplessness. And, yet, there are glimpses of hope in this book, too. These glimpses might just be individual characters but they were there and if we have learned anything it is that it only takes a few good people to inspire others.
I'm not going to provide many plot details for this book as I found it hugely beneficial to know next to nothing about this book.
Every reveal, every additional detail that Hughes affords the reader changed the context of the story and how I read this. She did this masterfully.
It is very much a story of telling you the facts, then changing one little thing, and suddenly the same facts appear different, more complex, more ... prone to consequence.
Suddenly we get to understand why Hugh, our MC, is eager to keep his head down, does not want to engage, does not want to stand up for himself. It's because he can't. The Expendable Man tells a story of oppression (in more ways than one as we learn throughout the story) taking place in broad daylight.
I was angry for Hugh, for his helplessness. And, yet, there are glimpses of hope in this book, too. These glimpses might just be individual characters but they were there and if we have learned anything it is that it only takes a few good people to inspire others.
July 29, 2023
He passed the hitchhiker before he was actually aware of the shape and form; only after he had passed did he realize that this was a young girl. From the glimpse, a teen-age girl. Even as he slowed his car, he was against doing it...He shifted to reverse and began backing up.
It's always best not to know too much about a mystery before you start reading it, and that is especially true for The Expendable Man, the final novel written by Dorothy B. Hughes who is best known for In a Lonely Place, which was filmed starring Humphrey Bogart. The story of a young doctor with good intentions who ends up wrongfully accused of various crimes and has to prove himself innocent involves matters of abortion, police corruption, and other important social issues that were at the forefront of life in the 1960s. Skillfully weaving together all of the story elements, Hughes demonstrates how attitudes and predispositions combined with indolence or even outright bias by the investigating officers could so easily result in the accusation and potentially the conviction of the wrong person.
It's always best not to know too much about a mystery before you start reading it, and that is especially true for The Expendable Man, the final novel written by Dorothy B. Hughes who is best known for In a Lonely Place, which was filmed starring Humphrey Bogart. The story of a young doctor with good intentions who ends up wrongfully accused of various crimes and has to prove himself innocent involves matters of abortion, police corruption, and other important social issues that were at the forefront of life in the 1960s. Skillfully weaving together all of the story elements, Hughes demonstrates how attitudes and predispositions combined with indolence or even outright bias by the investigating officers could so easily result in the accusation and potentially the conviction of the wrong person.
July 20, 2012
A friend recommended this but there was no available copy at the library, so I checked out Hughes's first novel, The So Blue Marble, and read that while I waited for The Expendable Man to come in. Reading the author's first and then last books in succession turned out to be fascinating. The So Blue Marble was a bizarre little mystery notable for its atmospheric creepiness and nearly unbearable sense of dread. The story was silly and the whole thing didn't make too much sense, but its mood was so successfully disturbing that I enjoyed the book.
If her first, 1940 novel demonstrated a knack for conveying profound unease and menace, 1963's The Expendable Man showed what a mature author could do with this ability. Here, the same paranoia and premonition of evil is put to serious use -- in this novel, it actually means something significant.
A UCLA medical intern drives a white Cadillac from LA to Phoenix. Along the way he stops and picks up a dirty teenaged hitchhiker. From the moment he sees her, both the main character and reader are overwhelmed with tension and dread. We know that this girl represents a threat, that something terrible is going to happen, though we don't know what or why.
The first two chapters of this book were incredible, and the rest of it was pretty good, though not uniformly great and there were a few preoccupations that I thought weakened the book at times. Still, it's a very well-crafted novel with great prose that conveys its era vividly, and is recommended for fans of early-sixties crime and suspense.
(**Advisory: I do not recommend looking at too many reviews of this if you're thinking of reading it, since it's one of those books other people can totally screw up for you.)
If her first, 1940 novel demonstrated a knack for conveying profound unease and menace, 1963's The Expendable Man showed what a mature author could do with this ability. Here, the same paranoia and premonition of evil is put to serious use -- in this novel, it actually means something significant.
A UCLA medical intern drives a white Cadillac from LA to Phoenix. Along the way he stops and picks up a dirty teenaged hitchhiker. From the moment he sees her, both the main character and reader are overwhelmed with tension and dread. We know that this girl represents a threat, that something terrible is going to happen, though we don't know what or why.
The first two chapters of this book were incredible, and the rest of it was pretty good, though not uniformly great and there were a few preoccupations that I thought weakened the book at times. Still, it's a very well-crafted novel with great prose that conveys its era vividly, and is recommended for fans of early-sixties crime and suspense.
(**Advisory: I do not recommend looking at too many reviews of this if you're thinking of reading it, since it's one of those books other people can totally screw up for you.)
July 18, 2013
For some reason I'm encountering medical students in everything I read. At any rate, pretty cool stuff. I wish I could say something about the plot, but since it's a twisty turny noir, to do so would be less than ideal. What I will say about it is that it's been a while since I started reading a book where, within a few pages, I wished for nothing more than to be able to shut out all the annoyances of real life and just read it straight through start to finish.
I do notice, however, that none of my GR friends have read this, and most don't seem to know about it, which is a travesty. It's only 250 pages--someone, please, grab a copy of this and vindicate me.
EDIT: Okay, maybe I actually do have a few scattered thoughts on this. It's the only true page-turner detective-type-novel (that I can think of) that is fundamentally about race. Lots of other books engage with it, but here it's a cornerstone. Which leads me to ask the very strange question, is it possible for a book that is about race--and is much the stronger for it--to have a preoccupation with race that actually simultaneously weakens it?
Unfortunately, again, I can't really get deep into it without spoilers, but here's a harmless example: all the black characters in the book have almost stereotypically white-sounding names like Drew or Nick or Steve* whereas all the white characters have unusual names. I think I'm picking up what Hughes is putting down, but it's equally possible that she's just playfully messing with (white) readerly expectations. Which I can appreciate, but if that's the case it's clever in a way that's incongruous with the deep, visceral menace and tension that pervade the actual story. Strange.
*Not the actual names from the book.
I do notice, however, that none of my GR friends have read this, and most don't seem to know about it, which is a travesty. It's only 250 pages--someone, please, grab a copy of this and vindicate me.
EDIT: Okay, maybe I actually do have a few scattered thoughts on this. It's the only true page-turner detective-type-novel (that I can think of) that is fundamentally about race. Lots of other books engage with it, but here it's a cornerstone. Which leads me to ask the very strange question, is it possible for a book that is about race--and is much the stronger for it--to have a preoccupation with race that actually simultaneously weakens it?
Unfortunately, again, I can't really get deep into it without spoilers, but here's a harmless example: all the black characters in the book have almost stereotypically white-sounding names like Drew or Nick or Steve* whereas all the white characters have unusual names. I think I'm picking up what Hughes is putting down, but it's equally possible that she's just playfully messing with (white) readerly expectations. Which I can appreciate, but if that's the case it's clever in a way that's incongruous with the deep, visceral menace and tension that pervade the actual story. Strange.
*Not the actual names from the book.
January 6, 2022
I was ready for dark, or so I thought. I was lulled at the beginning, but about 1/4 in I was beyond my comfort zone. I never gave a thought to setting it aside, but I was glad to have reached my reading time limit for the day and come back the next. This was the right thing for me to have done as I felt much better about the situation and characters the next day. The one thing I was wishing is that I'd read this at least 2 or more years ago, that events of the recent past had me more uncomfortable now than I would have been in 2019 or earlier.
The GR description and other reviews tell enough of this story originally published in 1963 and contemporary to the time. Briefly, Dr. Hugh Densmore drives a cadillac from Los Angeles to Phoenix for a family wedding. Just outside of Indio, a girl - probably a teenager, he thinks - is by the side of the road. He starts to drive by, knowing he shouldn't stop, but then thinks better of it and stops. Again, he knows full well he shouldn't. Many of us have done things we know we shouldn't and yet do anyway. Most of us did not suffer disastrous consequences.
In this edition, there is a marvelous Afterword by Walter Mosley. He speaks to the novel, but he also writes about what an accomplished but underrated novelist was Dorothy B. Hughes.
The GR description and other reviews tell enough of this story originally published in 1963 and contemporary to the time. Briefly, Dr. Hugh Densmore drives a cadillac from Los Angeles to Phoenix for a family wedding. Just outside of Indio, a girl - probably a teenager, he thinks - is by the side of the road. He starts to drive by, knowing he shouldn't stop, but then thinks better of it and stops. Again, he knows full well he shouldn't. Many of us have done things we know we shouldn't and yet do anyway. Most of us did not suffer disastrous consequences.
In this edition, there is a marvelous Afterword by Walter Mosley. He speaks to the novel, but he also writes about what an accomplished but underrated novelist was Dorothy B. Hughes.
So why has she not been more celebrated? Why hasn’t her work been anthologized like that of so many of her peers? Her novels are carefully crafted pieces, ahead of their time in their use of psychological suspense and their piercing observations about class and race. She was among the best and her work belongs in our canon of classic American stories. Bringing her back is no act of nostalgia; it is a gateway through which we might access her particular view of that road between our glittering versions of American life and the darker reality that waits at the end of the ride.I feel fortunate to have found her a few years back and yet this is only my 5th of her 14 novels. I look forward to the others. In the meantime, this ranks toward the top of those I've read. Maybe it's only 4-stars, but it walks alongside the 5-star fence.
June 24, 2020
Rich, deadly noir written on a knife edge. Hughes highlights the need for safe, accessible abortions for any person who needs them and exposes the biases of white readers She also makes no bones of the fact that a lot of cops, even the venerated class of fictional detective that I just can't quit, are racist jerks. And this opening paragraph; my goodness, come on - why aren't I reading more Dorothy Hughes?
"Across the tracks there was a different world. The long and lonely country was the color of sand. The horizon hills were haze-black; the clumps of mesquites stood in dark pools of their own shadowing. But the pools and the rim of the dark horizon were discerned only by conscious seeing, else the world was all sand, brown and tan and copper and pale beige. Even the sky at this moment was sand, reflection of the fading bronze of the sun."
"Across the tracks there was a different world. The long and lonely country was the color of sand. The horizon hills were haze-black; the clumps of mesquites stood in dark pools of their own shadowing. But the pools and the rim of the dark horizon were discerned only by conscious seeing, else the world was all sand, brown and tan and copper and pale beige. Even the sky at this moment was sand, reflection of the fading bronze of the sun."
June 13, 2015
It was a solid read. I found it really authentic,and it was based on more protagonist's inner monologues than plots,which I found intriguing.
Here are some memorable lines;
・He understood and he appreciated but he didn't tell her so.Because he couldn't accept the intimacy which was rising between them. He couldn't endure the knowing it must lead to nothing, no more than the finality of a good-bye, it's been fun knowing you.
・The windows were painted black.Here and again on them were vivid scratches, as if the inmates had,in a sudden attack of claustrophobia,clawed a glimpse of a cleaner world outside.
It was published in around 1965 and behind this novel was racial issues, which reminds me of the novel,A Time to Kill by John Grisham.
Here are some memorable lines;
・He understood and he appreciated but he didn't tell her so.Because he couldn't accept the intimacy which was rising between them. He couldn't endure the knowing it must lead to nothing, no more than the finality of a good-bye, it's been fun knowing you.
・The windows were painted black.Here and again on them were vivid scratches, as if the inmates had,in a sudden attack of claustrophobia,clawed a glimpse of a cleaner world outside.
It was published in around 1965 and behind this novel was racial issues, which reminds me of the novel,A Time to Kill by John Grisham.
November 20, 2020
Now that I own and have read my first Persephone I feel like I have joined a very brilliant club. This book was unsettling, particularly after around a quarter of the way in, when you start questioning yourself as well as the characters. I can't say why. You will have to join the club to find out.
July 14, 2024
I generally enjoyed reading this crime novel about a young Black doctor giving a lift to a White girl hitchhiker on his way from LA to Phoenix. Complications ensue, most of them having to do with race. The romantic elements seem a bit quaintly dated to me. Ms. Hughes applies her poet's eye to the setting decriptions.
June 30, 2025
A "halfway done" note:
If you decide to read this book, I'd strongly caution you NOT to read the blurb on the dust jacket of the Library of American compendium "Crime Novels of the 1960's" in which this is contained. There's an important - make that ''highly important" - plot twist revealed at about the 25% mark and I believe that the author deliberately withheld that information until then. Knowing that going in would ruin it for you, I think.
I really did not like (or feel the slightest bit of sympathy for) our protagonist, Dr. Hugh Densmore, or his family up to that point. They're gathered in Phoenix for the wedding of his niece Clytie ("Clytie"? Yes, Clytie) and they're all highly accomplished members of the American professional class - doctors, lawyers, judges, movers and shakers. They're excessively mannered, stiff, exceedingly formal, with a suffocatingly rigid code of social conduct and personal decorum verging on a religion. God, I did **NOT** like these people...and then came the reveal.
----------------------------
Well, I'm certainly in the minority here, but I didn't end up enjoying this very much. This is among the best American crime novels of the 1960's??? Yikes! Let me re-read "In Cold Blood" one more time and get back to you on that. I found the writing very, very clunky, almost archaic. This is the first thing I've read from Dorothy B. Hughes, so making a judgement on one short novel produced at the end of her career is probably premature, but if I had to, I'd say that words did NOT flow smoothly from the pen of Ms. Hughes.
Beyond stylistic quibbles, though, I found the characters - every single one - to be very thinly developed, almost cartoon-like caricatures. The "good guys" - the Densmore family, friends, and attorney - are all noble, regal, and beautiful. The "bad guys" - the cops, the murderer, and the murder victim - are all physically unattractive, depraved, and genuinely evil. Nuanced, this is not.
Finally, what is it with the names of these people? "Bonnie Lee Croom"? "Fred Othy"? (Was "Door" taken?)
I'm holding out hope for the remaining 8 books in this Library of America two-volume set, but I thought this was a genuine dud. Glad that one is behind me!
If you decide to read this book, I'd strongly caution you NOT to read the blurb on the dust jacket of the Library of American compendium "Crime Novels of the 1960's" in which this is contained. There's an important - make that ''highly important" - plot twist revealed at about the 25% mark and I believe that the author deliberately withheld that information until then. Knowing that going in would ruin it for you, I think.
I really did not like (or feel the slightest bit of sympathy for) our protagonist, Dr. Hugh Densmore, or his family up to that point. They're gathered in Phoenix for the wedding of his niece Clytie ("Clytie"? Yes, Clytie) and they're all highly accomplished members of the American professional class - doctors, lawyers, judges, movers and shakers. They're excessively mannered, stiff, exceedingly formal, with a suffocatingly rigid code of social conduct and personal decorum verging on a religion. God, I did **NOT** like these people...and then came the reveal.
----------------------------
Well, I'm certainly in the minority here, but I didn't end up enjoying this very much. This is among the best American crime novels of the 1960's??? Yikes! Let me re-read "In Cold Blood" one more time and get back to you on that. I found the writing very, very clunky, almost archaic. This is the first thing I've read from Dorothy B. Hughes, so making a judgement on one short novel produced at the end of her career is probably premature, but if I had to, I'd say that words did NOT flow smoothly from the pen of Ms. Hughes.
Beyond stylistic quibbles, though, I found the characters - every single one - to be very thinly developed, almost cartoon-like caricatures. The "good guys" - the Densmore family, friends, and attorney - are all noble, regal, and beautiful. The "bad guys" - the cops, the murderer, and the murder victim - are all physically unattractive, depraved, and genuinely evil. Nuanced, this is not.
Finally, what is it with the names of these people? "Bonnie Lee Croom"? "Fred Othy"? (Was "Door" taken?)
I'm holding out hope for the remaining 8 books in this Library of America two-volume set, but I thought this was a genuine dud. Glad that one is behind me!
September 14, 2015
A fine example of classic noir with a social conscience from one of the greats of the genre. The impact of her portrait of America in the early 60s has surely been lost over the past fifty years but the bravery of challenging her readers perceptions and preconceived notions is still more than obvious. As usual she writes with a great eye for the small details and finding the humanity in her characters - whether good or bad - and the tension she creates from her protagonist's quite reasonable persecution complex is powerful indeed. The famous "twist" has been done better, Charles Willeford's Pick-up for example, but not in such an emotionally and socially understanding way and for that reason alone it was worth NYRB republishing it.
Another pick from the HRF Keating Crime & Mystery 100 Best Books list in which he praises her "twist" as integral to the whole conception of the book and how it happens in one swift sentence of dialogue before you even realise it's happened, completely changing the nature of what came before and the protagonist as one of those heroes you identify with; in doing so you face a fearsome insight in to man's inhumanity to man. Further high praise comes via Walter Mosley in the afterword for her boldness and poetic nature in which he calls Hughes a great worthy of the Amwrican literary canon. So why is she still largely forgotten?
Another pick from the HRF Keating Crime & Mystery 100 Best Books list in which he praises her "twist" as integral to the whole conception of the book and how it happens in one swift sentence of dialogue before you even realise it's happened, completely changing the nature of what came before and the protagonist as one of those heroes you identify with; in doing so you face a fearsome insight in to man's inhumanity to man. Further high praise comes via Walter Mosley in the afterword for her boldness and poetic nature in which he calls Hughes a great worthy of the Amwrican literary canon. So why is she still largely forgotten?
May 23, 2018
Dorothy B. Hughes, author of The Expendable Man and the mother of noir mystery, gives us a marvelous book that tackles several social issues including racism in the south during the 1960's, abortion, police profiling, and socioeconomic privilege.
The novel starts off with Hugh Densimore, a medical intern at UCLA, picking up a young female hitchhiker on his way to visit family in Phoenix. As he asks her questions about herself, he becomes aware that she is an accomplished liar. He drops her off in Phoenix where she tells him she is going to meet her fiancé and get married. However, shortly after he drops her off she is found murdered and her body dumped in a local lake. The police immediately question Hugh and are set on pinning the crime on him.
The book examines the impact of racism on Hugh. Despite the fact that he is educated, socioeconomically privileged, and a good citizen, the color of his skin is not white. That, at least in the minds of the two detectives assigned to the case, gives them the right to treat him poorly, call him names and act disrespectfully towards him.
Hugh is determined to prove his innocence and will stop at nothing to get to the bottom of what happened to the murdered girl. I don't want to include any spoilers so, suffice it to say, Hugh will look in every corner and pursue every lead to clear his name.
Ms. Hughes' writing is excellent and she is able to get into her characters' heads and paint clear portraits of their innermost lives. I am so pleased that her books have been brought back by the New York Review of Books. As Walter Moseley states in the afterwards, "Bringing her back is no act of nostalgia; it is a gateway through which we might access her particular view of that road between our glittering versions of American life and the darker reality that waits at the end of the ride."
The novel starts off with Hugh Densimore, a medical intern at UCLA, picking up a young female hitchhiker on his way to visit family in Phoenix. As he asks her questions about herself, he becomes aware that she is an accomplished liar. He drops her off in Phoenix where she tells him she is going to meet her fiancé and get married. However, shortly after he drops her off she is found murdered and her body dumped in a local lake. The police immediately question Hugh and are set on pinning the crime on him.
The book examines the impact of racism on Hugh. Despite the fact that he is educated, socioeconomically privileged, and a good citizen, the color of his skin is not white. That, at least in the minds of the two detectives assigned to the case, gives them the right to treat him poorly, call him names and act disrespectfully towards him.
Hugh is determined to prove his innocence and will stop at nothing to get to the bottom of what happened to the murdered girl. I don't want to include any spoilers so, suffice it to say, Hugh will look in every corner and pursue every lead to clear his name.
Ms. Hughes' writing is excellent and she is able to get into her characters' heads and paint clear portraits of their innermost lives. I am so pleased that her books have been brought back by the New York Review of Books. As Walter Moseley states in the afterwards, "Bringing her back is no act of nostalgia; it is a gateway through which we might access her particular view of that road between our glittering versions of American life and the darker reality that waits at the end of the ride."
December 12, 2025
A man accused of a crime he did not commit.
It's a tired trope, but it's done very well here and there's enough in this novel to give a fresh feel to it. This was my first novel by Dorothy Hughes (which just so happened to be her last written novel), and I will be on the lookout for more of her works.
This was very good.
Recommended
It's a tired trope, but it's done very well here and there's enough in this novel to give a fresh feel to it. This was my first novel by Dorothy Hughes (which just so happened to be her last written novel), and I will be on the lookout for more of her works.
This was very good.
Recommended
July 11, 2012
I picked up Dorothy B. Hughes' The Expendable Man on a whim, forgetting, actually, that I had added one of her other books, Blackbirder to my 'to-read' shelf some time ago. Primarily I was interested because it is a crime novel (by a woman) set in Arizona and from the cover description, it sounded like the main character was in some way dubious or not what he seemed--I love those unreliable narrators. About 60 pages into the book, however, my expectations were completely turned on their head in one of the cleverest narrative twists I've read in some time.
I'm often not too troubled by spoilers, but I'll not ruin this for anyone by going into the aforementioned twist in detail. Suffice to say that Hughes' revelation is partially a revelation because it shouldn't be one at all, and yet the dropping of one small fact changes everything you've read up to that point and contextualizes the rest of the novel in a far more meaningful way than your average 'wrong-man' scenario. She's a gifted writer--her prose is spare, but really descriptive when it needs to be, and she puts a great deal of empathy into her characterizations, which I think is pivotal in a good crime novel. Through her characters in The Expandable Man she not only effectively conveys a sort of looming paranoia and tension--and the agonizing feeling that the person one most needs to escape is, perhaps, oneself--but also ably places both herself and her readers in the same frame of mind, which makes for a rather jittery reading experience. (In a good way, of course.)
I'll also say that this is one of the best evocations I've read of Arizona since Betsy Thornton's High Lonesome Road (makes sense--Hughes lived in New Mexico), and it's particularly touching to read her descriptions of Phoenix on the verge of becoming the sprawling, overdeveloped, contentiously urban city that it is today. I loathe Phoenix as it is now--as it's been since my childhood--and in some ways, that's just the Tucsonan pride coming out. But in the 60s, when the book is set, Hughes describes a city which is not yet large enough that one can easily hide there, a city which is only just starting to raze the natural landscape for suburban housing developments and which still lays claim to meandering country roads winding next to canals shaded by mesquite trees.
I wasn't totally sold on the way the plot wrapped up--there's some last minute amateur sleuthing that is a little contrived--but this is beside the point. I will certainly be tracking down more of Hughes' books soon--maybe next In a Lonely Place, which was turned into a movie with Humphrey Bogart.
I'm often not too troubled by spoilers, but I'll not ruin this for anyone by going into the aforementioned twist in detail. Suffice to say that Hughes' revelation is partially a revelation because it shouldn't be one at all, and yet the dropping of one small fact changes everything you've read up to that point and contextualizes the rest of the novel in a far more meaningful way than your average 'wrong-man' scenario. She's a gifted writer--her prose is spare, but really descriptive when it needs to be, and she puts a great deal of empathy into her characterizations, which I think is pivotal in a good crime novel. Through her characters in The Expandable Man she not only effectively conveys a sort of looming paranoia and tension--and the agonizing feeling that the person one most needs to escape is, perhaps, oneself--but also ably places both herself and her readers in the same frame of mind, which makes for a rather jittery reading experience. (In a good way, of course.)
I'll also say that this is one of the best evocations I've read of Arizona since Betsy Thornton's High Lonesome Road (makes sense--Hughes lived in New Mexico), and it's particularly touching to read her descriptions of Phoenix on the verge of becoming the sprawling, overdeveloped, contentiously urban city that it is today. I loathe Phoenix as it is now--as it's been since my childhood--and in some ways, that's just the Tucsonan pride coming out. But in the 60s, when the book is set, Hughes describes a city which is not yet large enough that one can easily hide there, a city which is only just starting to raze the natural landscape for suburban housing developments and which still lays claim to meandering country roads winding next to canals shaded by mesquite trees.
I wasn't totally sold on the way the plot wrapped up--there's some last minute amateur sleuthing that is a little contrived--but this is beside the point. I will certainly be tracking down more of Hughes' books soon--maybe next In a Lonely Place, which was turned into a movie with Humphrey Bogart.
December 30, 2019
I love the way this is written, especially the unsettling way that Hughes challenges the reader’s assumptions. She also writes about the ways class and race affect the justice system in a way that is every bit as relevant now as it was when she wrote it more than fifty years ago. I only wish the mystery itself had a little more bite and, well, mystery.
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