contested publication of Hubert Selby,rnJr.’s Last Exit to Brooklyn. Buying sleazernand looking down a blue nose, the Americanrnpublic has been confused about thisrnpoint since the days of Cotton Mather,rnand still is.rnVolume one of these crime stories isrnmuch the better of the two, boastingrnseveral classics. These were thernbooks that people actually read for pleasurerninstead of duty, and then declaredrnthat they had really loved The GoldenrnBowl. Yet Stephen Crane and Jack Londonrnshowed us something about the lowerrndepths, and Hemingway’s story “ThernKillers” implied much that would be developedrnby others. To Have and HavernNot is Hemingway imitating his imitators,rnand writing a left-wing crime novelrnhimself Faulkner had his innings inrnSanctuary, one of his best books. ThernGreat Gatsby was first filmed in 1949 as arnsentimental gangster movie, which wasrnan oddly fitting approach. Robert PennrnWarren’s All the King’s Men seemed tornme to owe something of its plot tornDashiell Hammett’s The Glass Key, andrntonal inflections to Raymond Chandler.rnSo if American literature has so oftenrnbeen the crime novel, then the crimernnovel is American literature, as these collectionsrndeliberately suggest.rnIf these novels are not to be confusedrnwith the lurid covers of fond memory,rnthen neither are they to be confused withrnthe movies derived from them. JamesrnM. Cain’s The Postman Always RingsrnTwice (1934) was filmed twice, but readersrnwill find his Cora to be no LanarnTurner. Horace McCoy’s They ShootrnMOVING?rnTo assure uninterruptedrndelivery ofrnCHRONICLES,rnplease notifyrnus in advance. Send changernof address and thernmailing label fromrnyour latest issue to:rnCHRONICLESrnSUBSCRIPTION DEPT.rnRO. BOX 800rnMOUNT MORRIS, IL 61054rnHorses, Don’t They? (1935) was at lastrnfilmed in 1969, and faithfully too; yetrnthat version is lacking in impact. EdwardrnAnderson’s Thieves Like Us (1937)rnwas also filmed many years out of contextrn(1974), Kenneth Fearing’s The Big Clockrn(1946) eff’ectively done in 1948, WilliamrnLindsay Gresham’s Nightmare Alleyrn(1946) rather well treated the next year,rnand so on. These facts may remind us ofrnsome good and some not so good films;rnalso, perhaps, that just as great novelsrndon’t make great films, lesser novels toornmay be superior to the films derived fromrnthem.rnIn looking again at The Postman AlwaysrnRings Twice, we would do well tornrecall that Albert Camus used the novelrnas a model for L’Etranger. I think wernwould also have to say that some aspectsrnof Cain’s book have not worn well. “I bitrnher. I sank my teeth into her lips so deeprnI could feel the blood spurt into myrnmouth. It was running down her neckrnwhen I carried her upstairs” (end ofrnChapter Two). Why does the narratorrnsound more like Count Dracula than arnblue-collar lover boy? However, Cain’srnstory of a descent into hell and even of arnkind of redemption in death has powerfulrndrive, a highly appealing idiomaticrnsimplicity, and enough irony for a Greekrntragedian. Nick Papadakis is “greasy,”rnbut I think Nick is a Greek because Cainrnwanted to write the melodrama as Greekrntragedy. Camus was hooked by Cain becausernFrank is executed for killing CorarnPapadakis, which he didn’t do, and notrnfor killing Nick, which they did. Camusrnremembered the swimming scene for hisrnnovel, but in Cain that scene leads to arnsentimental swerve towards marriedrnlove, cut short by fate. Treated contemptuouslyrnby Edmund Wilson and JoycernCarol Gates, Cain was some kind of arnwriter nevertheless. The Postman AlwaysrnRings Twice has power, form, irony, andrnverbal resource. It is hard to know whatrnmore we can ask for than that, and I amrnglad I read the old thing again. I couldn’trnput it down. I was reminded of the firstrntime I read that sleazy moral fable 40rnyears ago. Good writer, James M. Cain.rnDoesn’t waste your time with the fancyrnstuff.rnThey Shoot Horses, Don’t They?, HoracernMcCoy’s first novel, is a masterpiecernthat was recognized by the Frenchrnmore than half a century ago; his novelsrnremain in print in French, though not inrnEnglish. This republication is thereforerndoubly welcome. They Shoot Horses,rnDon’t They?, with its typographical experimentationrnand expressive collision ofrnform and idioms, juxtaposing the languagernof the judge’s sentence withrnRobert’s narrative, is a landmark of modernistrnpenetiation into popular literature.rnHorace McCoy became a Hollywoodrnhack, but at least once he roused himselfrnto prove he deserved his French reputation.rnKiss Tomorrow Goodbye (1948) isrnhis attempt to write a gangster story as thernGreat American Novel, and it too deservesrnto be revived. To think of McCoyrnin Paris, receiving his recognition beforernhe died of a heart attack at the age of 58,rnis to reflect that sometimes justice reallyrnis served.rnIf Horace McCoy’s “objective lyricism”rnand formal disposition has power,rnEdward Anderson’s discourse has beauty.rnThieves Like Us is a masterpiece ofrnwriting and should be used in creativernwriting classes as a model of dictionalrnpurity and the limited third person pointrnof view. Thieves Like Us was in fact basedrnon interviews Anderson conducted withrnhis cousin Roy Johnson, who was servingrna life sentence for armed robbery.rnFilmed twice, the novel was cited byrnRaymond Chandler for its forgottenrngreatness, and we can see why. The grittyrnand doom-laden tale heads where it inevitablyrnmust as the stick-up artists fendrnoff the fate they provoke. When a selfservingrncriminal declares of the bankers,rn”They’re thieves like us,” we might recallrnthat even with computerized systemsrnbanks now take longer to clear a checkrnthan ever before. They get their float,rnand guess who from. The left-wing viewrnof capitalism has a legitimate populist,rnnot a Marxist, base.rnThe poet Kenneth Fearing, author ofrnThe Big Clock, once told the FBI he wasrn”not yet” a member of the CommunistrnParty. The Big Clock is set in the world ofrnbig-time corporate publishing in a wayrnthat seems oddly contemporary. Its variedrnnarrators break up the point of view,rnbut I think the prose is the least distinctivernin this volume. William LindsayrnGresham’s Nightmare Alley, however, isrnsomething else. Gresham himself was arncommunist who served as a medic in thernLincoln Brigade. He later converted tornPresbyterianism and then to Zen Buddhism,rnthe occult, and Dianetics. Hernstruggled with alcoholism and committedrnsuicide in 1962. But Nightmare Alleyrnis not a confused work, though one passage,rnin Chapter XIX, is almost pure PopularrnFront agitprop. Nightmare Alley isrn32/CHRONICLESrnrnrn