Is more than darkness. Is corruption of the heart, behind closed doors, boardroom or street. Is fucked whether you do, don’t, sing, moan, sniff or shoot. Is a ticket to all we have, never enough. Is greed, lust, fatal kiss, the banker inside you screaming for mercy. Is a dream of autonomy, femme fatality, breathing, “hey, baby, take it,” a corpse, a handful of dust and who cares, if the only punishment Is death.
London-based journalist and author of Pulp Culture: Hardboiled Fiction and the Cold War; Neon Noir: Contemporary American Crime Fiction; and Heartbreak and Vine: The Fate of Hardboiled Writers in Hollywood.