Chicago Noir isn’t
about a newspaper, although after reading it I kept thinking of the old
riddle “What’s black and white and red all over?” The
stage sets in these stories are as shadowy as the characters, whose twisted
psyches take them down paths colored by their victims’ blood. Anyone
who has enjoyed film noir classics The Big Sleep, The Third
Man, or the more recent Chinatown will understand that
within the genre, the setting itself is a character. Readers who love
Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammett, Carl Hiaasen, and Elmore Leonard will
appreciate the collaborative effort of 18 talented writers whose
perspectives render a melancholy view of a city that’s been almost
forgotten.
In his preface, editor Neal Pollack bemoans the loss
of the Chicago he remembers from his days as a reporter there 10 years ago.
The current Mayor Daley’s reign could be called the rapid revamp.
Gone are Pollack’s beloved bars, restaurants, and their often bizarre
patrons, replaced by condos and what the editor refers to as a spaceship in
Soldier Field. Although he is not arguing the case for urban blight,
Pollack makes a fair point (but could have come up with a more descriptive
adjective) in saying that the city is now less “interesting.”
On the heels of last year’s Edgar Award
nominee, Brooklyn Noir, Pollack assembled a cast of writers to craft a similar portrait of
Chicago. English profs, reporters, actors, performance artists, and just
plain writers have spent considerable time in our governor’s favorite
town, and they share his enthusiasm for it. One of them is
Springfield’s own Amy Sayre-Roberts, a University of Illinois at
Springfield grad who will begin working toward a master of fine arts in
creative writing this fall at the University of Illinois at
Urbana-Champaign. Her story, “Dead Mouth,” should send would-be
lovers flocking to eharmony.com. Suffice it to say that the next date you
meet in a bar may be your last.
Small-time crooks, big-time operators, and femmes
fatales populate these pages. They have a language all their own. Everyone
know the line “Of all the gin joints in all the world. . . .”
Now listen to some of the opening lines here: “The guy at the end of
the bar was dead.” “I have three memories of my cousin
Maximillian.” “High black cat is the worst kind of luck.”
They have the tone down pat: evil, ambiguity, desperation, and paranoia.
How could you not want to read on?
Chicago Noir could be
thought of as a travelogue with a twisted sense of humor. Its stories are
organized by intersection, moving from the South Side all the way to the
Wisconsin border. A map is included. Chalk-outlined corpses mark each site
along the route. It’s a trip best taken from your favorite armchair
unless, of course, you’re packin’ a rod and have a time
machine. Either way, I predict you’ll enjoy the ride.
Amy Sayre-Roberts and fellow writer Andrew Ervin will
sign books at Borders Books & Music, 802 W. Town Center Blvd. in
Champaign, at 2 p.m. Saturday, Sept. 17.
This article appears in Aug 11-17, 2005.
