I recently slogged through this book from 1996, back when hardboiled crime novels were for the second time in a decade the cause célèbre of arty pricks who intoned the words “Baudrillard,” “Foucault,” and “Motorhead” with measured distinctness and casual self-importance while swilling microbrews at the local fuckface hipster bar. My first anthology, a hipster fuckface book of erotic crime-noir, came out that same year, so I probably should have read it then. But doing so would have been unthinkable at the time to me, as reading about writing was something I studiously avoided. Oh, how we change.
Anyway, I have mixed feelings about it.
While Pulp Culture: Hardboiled Fiction and the Cold War is invaluable to me for its many mentions of forgotten noir classics. It’s also got some political observations of varied value. Unfortunately, most of it falls into the let’s-dissect-the-text category of literary histories, which I find only vaguely interesting at the best of times and astonishingly tedious most of the time.
Initially, the author’s comments include some interesting perspectives on Mike Hammer fascism vs. left-of-center Lew Archer; he has a nice segment about Dashiell Hammett’s appearance before McCarthy’s House Un-American Activities Committee. There’s also some great stuff about Chester Himes, a black detective writer whose first book, the non-detective If He Hollers Let Him Go reflects his deep fury about race relations in the US. We appear to be heading into an actual consideration of cold war paranoia, race anxiety and how it gave rise to the anti-Communist, anti-outsider, anti-sex, anti-deviance tone that marks the majority of American crime fiction despite its liberal use of flesh, freaks and firearms to generate atmospheric interest.
Not really. Most of the political writing in here has nothing to do with the cold war directly, but seems to be a critique of American culture overall, and particularly of capitalism. In particular, I feel like it fixates on what seems to be a sort of crypto-Marxist interpretation of consumerism, cities/suburbia, and race and class in America, rather than focusing on the actual cold war, even as reflected in those four things.
I’m not bagging on Marxists — I remain largely neutral on that odd German who seems to obsess the academic community. But here, Haut is not entirely up-front about his political orientation, so his more snide left-wing “critiques” come across as passive-aggressive and kinda Berkeley. It ends up not being so much about the cold war as about the problems the author (who lives in England) has with American culture overall. Don’t get me wrong; I have some problems with it myself. But in my view a “critique of consumerism” never ages well, whether it’s from 13 years ago or 50.
Probably more importantly, most of this book is a very densely text-based analysis of certain noir writers, consisting of summary-analysis, summary-analysis what felt to me like ad infinitum. Some of the analysis is deeply insightful, but much of the rest of it struck me as just plain self-important pseudo-intellectual lefty wanking.
Personally, I do not like text-based analysis; I find it passable when done in brief, but tedious when it becomes extended, as it is here. When it comes to politics I’m more interested in historical events and in actual people, whether they are right-wing fucks or commie pinkos, rather than texts per se.
That said, there is some amazing stuff outside the framework of the text-based analysis, particularly about the politics of the time; I very much appreciated the look at Mike Hammer as a rabid right-winger, but it’s the briefest treatment in the book, maybe because calling Mike Hammer a fascist is like shooting fish in a barrel. Much of the rest of the analysis is interesting, but so dense it reads almost like a book report.
There’s enough to justify a read for noir fans and those who like wanky text analysis, which I’m sure includes many of my friends (love ya, guys — mean it!).
But I am way more interested in the broader social aspects of the era, from a genesis of historicity rather than text-analysis, text-analysis, text-analysis, particularly when it’s got kind of a pushy ideological subtext. I understand that such analyses are seductive and fun to write, but I’d really rather pound nails into my forehead than read them.
Why did I go looking for it, then? It’s got .45s on the cover, pure and simple. Sometimes that’s all it takes.
SPOILER ALERT
It’s kind of physically painful to give this book any ink, even virtual ink, but it’s really one of the few works I could find that cover the subject of lost cities in North Africa in this detail. I would feel more kindly disposed to it because of its utility to me in my writing… but really, it’s practically unreadable, so bleah.
My 
I read this book while trying to procrastinate; it’s great for that. 
My 
Oh yeah, I’m doing a reading tonight. I’m reposting this in case any of all y’all in San Francisco want to come:
