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158 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1953


Gerald would say that aside from all this, aside from all the filthy dealing involved, the stink of deceit and lies and the lousy taste of conniving and corruption, it was possible for a human being to live in this world and be honorable with himself. To be honorable with himself, Gerald would say, was the only thing could give living a true importance, an actual nobility. If a man decided to be a burglar and he became a burglar and made his hauls with smoothness and finesse, with accuracy and artistic finish, and got away with the haul, then he was, according to Gerald, an honorable man.In Nat's mind, with Nat's particular background, as long as no one is physically hurt, taking is honorable.
"I wish... sometime I could get to talk with women. If once a month I could talk lady talk with ladies I'd be happy."Goodis can be adept at noir-esque description:
"I told you I'm not a little girl anymore. I've grown up, I know the alphabet."
She had seated herself in a deep sofa that looked like it was fashioned from pistachio ice cream and would melt away any minute.~even if there can be purple self-parody in his prose:
The liquid of her lips poured into his brains. There was a bursting in his brain as everything went out of his brain and Della came in, filling his brain so that his brain was crammed with Della.But, putting the book's sporadic OTT moments aside, the whole novel falls into the danger of coming undone as it reaches a somewhat-extended conclusion that is not only ludicrous but, quite simply, could never possibly happen. It's just about laughable.

David Goodis didn’t write novels, he wrote suicide notes.