Play It Nice And Easy, I Told Myself. Bing Crosby On A Hammock.

I am, in large part, a fan of long, sprawling, adventurous types of stories. Maybe it’s because that constitutes the bulk of what I read that I’m so impressed by a hardboiled, pulp-type novel done well: because it manages to pack so much into so little space.

Coming in at a mere 180 pages, Queenpin by Megan Abbott is a frightening, violent, atmospheric little book that really won’t let you go. You can finish it in an afternoon… and honestly, if you’ve got the free afternoon I don’t see why you’d have it any other way.

The major virtue of Queenpin, in its way, actually reminds me a good deal of Walter Mosley’s Devil In a Blue Dress. Each book somewhat co-opts the style of older crime novels, but adds an element that wouldn’t really have been explored fairly in most books from the original time period. (Race in Mosley’s tale, the role of women in Abbot’s.) This serves to give each book a sort of modern spin on things, but not to the point of feeling shoe-horned in. Nothing’s worse than when an author’s work screams: “Look at my strong female characters! Aren’t they great?!”

The female leads in Queenpin aren’t one-note femme fatales, but they are as believably tough, crooked, strong, frightening, and weak as any male character. The unnamed lead character/narrator even finds herself prey to the same kind of ruining lust as a male noir lead.

Essentially, that main character finds herself taken under the wing of high-up female criminal who’s been around since the 20’s, (the book is set roughly in the early 60’s) where she gets her requisite taste for the high life, etc. Then, she goes and falls for the wrong man. It really is the classic setup with the genders reversed, and she’s never even really that dedicated. She recognizes Vic Riordan for what he is–a pathetic chiseler, the kind of sap that she suckers day in and day out, but she can’t keep away from him anyway. Unreasoning lust works that way, and it certainly doesn’t come across any worse than (again) the mail noir leads who go to the ends of the earth for sex.

Then, while it’s telling the basic noir story (and telling so very, very well, by the way) it gets to where the end would normally be… but only halfway through the book. It’s riveting.

Queenpin is a classic crime novel ride through and through. Twists, turns, gore, dealings, and alot of dry wit. The major characters are fleshed out surprisingly well in very little space, and the author evokes old masters without losing her voice (although she may come close a few times). It plows forward on the strength of its characters, instead of unbelievable twists, and comes all nice and wrapped up in one of the best covers this side of Hard Case Crime. All in all, one of the better short, dirty, inner-monologue-laden hardboiled books that you can get your hands on for a few days.