Defining hard-boiled and noir fiction

 I have a new post over at my substack defining hard-boiled and noir fiction, as well as posting my first Friday hard-boiled bullet of prose.

Restarting my Substack

Back in 2021 I briefly played around with Substack but wasn't quite sure what to do with it and was busy writing software. Since I wrote my last line of software last year and am back to writing more short crime fiction, I've had a chance to think about what I want my substack to be and restarted with posts that include my meeting Robert Forster and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau.

You can visit my substack here and I hope you subscribe!

The Noir Novels

 For a while it was trendy to call any crime fiction noir if it showed shades of gray. I have a much stricter definition of noir: there's an inevitability of doom. The noir protagonist has crossed a line that there's no coming back from. Whether it's murder or betrayal or something else, the noir protagonist is damned, and no matter how much he might struggle, by the end if he's still alive, he'd be just as well-off dead.

While I have several noirish crime novels that more than meet the trendier definition, I have six novels that fall squarely as noir (as well as many short stories)

Alles endet hier translates to Everything Ends Here. For now, this is only planned for Germany. Hopefully this will find a US publisher at some point.

The Roommate

 

Black Cat Weekly allows me to write and get published unusual mystery and crime stories that don't fit the standard mystery magazines. In this week's Black Cat Weekly, my story The Roommate is a mystery in both the narrowest and broadest sense. I can't promise that this story will surprise every reader who tries it, but I think it will.

My promises about PARIAH

 

Several promises I can make about Pariah.

1. It's as "hell-on-wheels" a crime novel as you'll find
2. Nothing I've written is as opposite to my Julius Katz stories as this book
3. It's subversive
4. You've never encountered a protagonist like Kyle Nevin before, and you'll never want to encounter anyone like him in the real world
5. Writers in particular will enjoy the book's scathing satirical takedown of the publishing industry
6. No publisher exists today that would ever touch this book.

If I were to pick 4 words to describe Pariah, they would be: brutal, funny (in a very dark way), tragic, noir.

What critics and authors say about Pariah

 

Pariah, which is now for the first time available as a kindle book, was originally published by Serpent's Tail in 2009 and was named that year by the Washington Post as one of the best crime and mystery novels of the year. Here's what critics and authors said about it then:

"A doom-laden crime story that not only makes merry with the justice system, but also satirizes those bottom feeders in the publishing industry who would sign Osama bin Laden to a six-figure contract for his memoirs, if only they could figure out which cave to send their lawyers into. If there's any other young writer out there who does crime noir better than Zeltserman, I don't even want to know... I'd say Zeltserman can't top Pariah for its sheer diabolical inventiveness, but he probably will. And given that the corrupting vision of his work is so powerful, I ought to know better than to read the next novel he writes. But I probably will anyway." -- Maureen Corrigan Washington Post

'as nasty and clever as noir can get" NPR

'Darkly enjoyable' Boston Globe

'Pariah is a terrific blast' Metro (UK)

'Pariah is at turns brutal, violent, and a funny, scathing satire of our celebrity obsessed consumer culture and publishing industry. Really couldn’t put the book down, I poured through it in one day.' Paul Tremblay

"Pariah is the perfect pitch of reality, history crime, celebrity, plagiarism, and sheer astounding writing... If every writer has one great book in them, then Dave can rest easy" -- Ken Bruen

"Mean like bad whiskey and sophisticated like good scotch, Pariah is a rare find and a scorching read" -- Cortright McMeel

"This is a masterpiece" -- Seymour Shubin

"This fusion of hardboiled and bitter satire is brand new territory for noir and I suspect that it will be one of the most talked about novels of 2009" -- Ed Gorman

"This is a book that anyone with even the slightest interest in crime or thriller genres simply must get their hands on, as it's bound to have a huge impact on you" -- The Bookbag

"Small Crimes got a lot of attention for Dave Zeltserman in 2008. This year, Pariah should get even more. If you like hardboiled noir, this book's for you. ..(Pariah) is is fast, furious, and funny. If you have any interest in tough-guy noir, you'll want to get hold of this one as soon as you can" -- Bill Crider's Pop Culture Magazine.com

"For those who prefer the darker slice of life, Pariah will keep you glued to its pages. The chain reaction of Kyle Nevin's release from prison on the world around him is the stuff of nuclear explosions. Violent, sexual and relentless, there are no holds barred anywhere in this wonderful launch into evil. The meek beware ... be-very-ware" -- Charlie Stella

"White-knuckle ride... a cracking piece of hard-boiled noir... different kinds of venality are put wittily under the microscope as the book rattles along to its terrific conclusion Metro Its noir, its satire, and its Boston that you don't see on Cheers. Nicely done follow-up to SMALL CRIMES." -- BookBitch

"For readers looking for edgy crime fiction, PARIAH fills the bill." -- Booklist

"Dave Zeltserman's Pariah is my pick for crime novel of the year. Tough, relentless, and packed with blunt force trauma... Like the late noir king Jim Thompson, and contemporary crime lords Jason Starr, Allan Guthrie, and Ken Bruen, Zeltserman takes readers on an uneasy ride inside the mind of a homicidal maniac. The story storms, pummels and stomps its way to a nasty ending, but it's the amoral, ruthless voice of Kyle that gives the book such outstanding quality. Pariah is a real winner." -- Hardfeelings

"Pariah is a suspense novel at its very best with a protagonist who is far, far over on the other side of the law. Zeltserman has outdone himself with this depiction of a near-psychopathic personality that is driven by its own strange set of moral principles. The portrayal rings too true." -- John A. Broussard, "I Love a Mystery blog, 

"Best mystery of the year? Naaah -- crime writing is so diverse that handing out prizes is beside the point. But we can say this: If you like your crime so hard-boiled you need to bring a chainsaw to breakfast, if you like your morbidity wrapped in a witty and satirical package, if you like your noir (or neo-noir, okay) so black that the pages feel sooty -- then Dave Zeltserman is tops." -- B&N.com

"...just think about Dave Zeltserman, and what a fine addition to the local literary scene he's become Boston Globe Zeltserman's talents as a noir writer rise above the genre's conventions...Pariah is a page-turner, even more so than his earlier novel, Small Crimes Boston Globe Clear crisp prose; fearless portrait of amorality; smart plotting" -- Ed Siegel Boston Globe

Now that Pariah is available as a Kindle Book....

 

Now that Pariah is available as a Kindle Book I'm revisiting Maureen Corrigan's Washington Post review of Pariah, which led to Pariah being named by the Washington Post as one of the best crime & mystery novels of 2009:

What a sick puppy of a writer Dave Zeltserman is! I didn't think a suspense story could get any more dark and twisted than Zeltserman's pulp masterpiece of last year, "Small Crimes." In that nasty little immorality tale, a crooked ex-cop bent on redemption gets released from prison and finds out that nobody -- not his ex-wife, not his young daughters, not even his elderly parents -- wants him back. The kicker is that they're right. By the end of "Small Crimes," I was wrung out thanks to the ingeniousness of Zeltserman's nonstop plot twists and the stark meanness of his universe. Now comes "Pariah," a doozy of a doom-laden crime story that not only makes merry with the justice system, but also satirizes those bottom feeders in the publishing industry who would sign Osama bin Laden to a six-figure contract for his memoirs, if only they could figure out which cave to send their lawyers into. If there's any other young writer out there who does crime noir better than Zeltserman, I don't even want to know. As it is, I can barely handle reading him without altogether losing whatever faith I've got left in humanity.

The antihero of this latest excursion into the underside is Kyle Nevin, a former heavyweight in the South Boston Irish mob. Eight years earlier, Kyle was set up by his former boss, Red Mahoney, to be murdered during a big bank heist; but fate smiled on Kyle, and another guy took the fatal bullet instead. Now, just released from eight years in the slammer, Kyle is out for revenge, sniffing out Mahoney the way a half-starved bloodhound would catch the scent of an underdone Big Mac. As is required in any work of crime noir worth its grit, we readers see the world through Kyle's bloodshot eyes. And here lies Zeltserman's particular brilliance: As a murderous sociopath, Kyle, like his predecessors in the Zeltserman lineup, is so boisterous in his self-justifications (for everything from breaking the little finger of a litterbug to kidnapping a sickly child to burning alive a close relative in his bed) that a reader can't help but laugh at the fervent illogic of it all. Here, for instance, Kyle describes the way he and his reluctant younger brother, Danny, steal a laptop from an unsuspecting "mark" who has just left an upscale Boston coffeehouse:

"I grabbed for the laptop and as the mark realized what was going on and tried to pull back, Danny was out of the car and clocking him on the side of the head with the brick. . . . The reality of the situation, the guy was no more than a hundred and sixty pounds soaking wet, and a slap on the side of the head with an open palm would've done the trick, but I was glad to see Danny use the brick. Not that I cared whether or not some effeminate mochachino-swilling yuppie had his head bashed in, but that type of violence was what I needed to bring the old Danny back."

In Kyle's perspective, the robbery serves as a terrific therapeutic exercise for Danny. And the really sick thing is that the scene is so brazenly buoyant that the reader gets carried along with the moment, too. Hooray! The Nevin Brothers are back! Bad luck for the yuppie who was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, but a good break for Danny and Kyle, who commit the assault in broad daylight on a Boston street, without any witnesses around.

The thing about luck, though, is that it always changes. After that aforementioned kidnapping goes haywire, Kyle dodges another jail term with the help of a principled defense attorney who can barely stand to breathe in his tainted presence. Then, he's offered a fabulous book deal to write a true-crime "fictional novel" of how the kidnapping might have gone down. (Zeltserman is obviously exacting some comic revenge on members of the publishing profession who, like their mobster counterparts, are always trolling for "the big one" and training their beady eyes on the bottom line.) Kyle is set up with a book packager who's supposed to help him bang out the novel in two months. Oprah, the bestsellers lists, European book tours and Hollywood await. Trouble is, Kyle's luck turns. He comes down with a nasty case of writer's block. That's just the very beginning of a long, loopy downward slide into the abyss.

I'd say Zeltserman can't top "Pariah" for its sheer diabolical inventiveness, but he probably will. And given that the corrupting vision of his work is so powerful, I ought to know better than to read the next novel he writes. But I probably will anyway.

Pariah available as a Kindle Book for the First Time!

 

Back in 2007, I was pissed that every New York publisher rejected Small Crimes (some of them two or more times), and I got even more pissed seeing publishers paying big money for crappy mobster tell-all books, and my response to this was over a 6-week period writing Pariah in a blind rage. There was another incident that fueled my rage, but I won't mention it here since it became integral in Pariah's plot. Here's one thing I can guarantee you about Pariah--it's unlike any crime novel you'll ever read--it's part hell-on-wheels brutally subversive crime novel and part savage satirical look at the publishing industry.

Nobody other than Serpent's Tail would've ever published Pariah, at least according to an editor at St. Martin's. After NPR had Small Crimes top their list of best crime/mystery novels of 2008, this editor contacted me, asking me why I didn't let him publish Small Crimes (never mind that his boss was one of three St. Martin's editors who rejected Small Crimes), and he wanted to see what I had next, which was Pariah--and his response to it was that no publisher in New York would touch it. Fortunately, Serpent's Tail was in London, and they were all too happy to do so. But even still, I was lucky to see Pariah in print--shortly after Serpent's Tail bought the rights, Profile Books bought Serpent's Tail, and Pete Ayrton (Serpent's Tail's legendary publisher) told me he had to threaten to quit before they'd let him publish it. Still, the ebook was never put out, and starting back in May of this year I contacted Profile Books about obtaining the ebook rights. On October 10th, the rights were granted back to me. And now a kindle version of Pariah is finally available as a Kindle Unlimited book.

This new version has a foreword that Roger Smith originally wrote for the German edition. I also took this opportunity to remove about 95% of the profanity and make a few other line edits to tighten the writing. The original book probably had more profanity per page than any other crime novel ever written--again, I wrote it in a blind rage, and I also wanted it to sound authentic. I'm pretty sure I succeeded in authenticity--I had one of the mob tell-all book co-authors read Pariah, and she told me this was exactly the way they are and speak. But I'm also older and wiser now and being 100% authentic isn't necessarily the goal. As long as the book feels authentic, that's more than good enough. I've also written enough Julius Katz mysteries and other short stories for Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine and Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine with no profanity where I've grown to prefer that. In any case, there's been a marked decrease in profanity in my writing since Pariah (The Caretaker of Lorne Field I think has one usage, and most of my other novels have little to none.) I couldn't get rid of all of it in Pariah without parts of it sounding false, but as stated above, 95% has been cleaned out.

I liked the original cover Serpent's Tail did for Pariah. It shows the explosive nature of the book. The protagonist, Kyle Nevin, is someone who brings death and destruction to anyone unlucky enough to cross his path. My new cover provides more of a sense of foreboding. Since most of the book takes place in Boston and Manhatton, a desolate cabin might seem an odd choice, but it will make sense to anyone who reads the book. I think the graphic designer did a brilliant job with it, as she has done with Everybody Lies in Hell and Detectives and Spies. 

The Complete Julius Katz List

I'm now writing what I call the Early Julius Katz stories--stories that take place before Julius met Lily Rosten in the first story titled appropriately 'Julius Katz'. Each of these new stories will be inspired to a degree to a different Nero Wolfe novel.

For now, here's a complete list of all the published Julius Katz stories and novels.

Collected in The Julius Katz Collection

• "Julius Katz". First published in EQMM (Sept/Oct 2009) Shamus and Derringer Award winner
• "Archie's Been Framed". First published in EQMM (Sept/Oct 2010) Ellery Queen Readers Choice Award Winner
• "One Julius Katz and Eleven Befuddled Jurors" First published in EQMM (June 2012)
• "Archie Solves the Case" First published in EQMM (May 2013) Ellery Queen Readers Choice Award Winner
• "Julius Katz and a Tangled Web". First published in EQMM (June 2014)
• "Julius Katz Accused". First published in EQMM (June 2014)
• "Julius Katz and the Case of Sliced Ham"

Collected in More Julius Katz and Archie PW Starred review

• "Julius Katz and the Case of Exploding Wine". First published in EQMM (March/April 2015)
• "Julius Katz and the Giftwrapped Murder". First published in EQMM (December 2015)
• "Archie on Loan". First published in EQMM (Sept/Oct 2016)
• "Cramer in Trouble". First published in EQMM (March/April 2017)
• "Julius Katz and the Terminated Agent". First published in EQMM (July/August 2017)
• "Archie for Hire". First published in EQMM (Nov/Dec 2018)
• "Julius Katz and the Belvedere Club". First published in EQMM (Sept/Oct 2019)
• "Like a Lightning Bolt". First published in EQMM (March/April 2020)

Collected in Detectives and Spies

• "Julius Katz and the Ruined Roast"
• "Julius Katz and the Two Cousins". First published in EQMM (July/Aug 2021)
• "Archie Smith International Spy". First published in EQMM (Nov/Dec 2022)
• "Archie's Been Stolen!". First published in EQMM

Julius Katz and Archie (novel)" (2011)

James & Bond excerpt

 

An excerpt from the Morris Brick story James & Bond from Detectives and Spies:

VICTOR Specter had good reason to be nervous given the flash drive that he had earlier tucked away in his wallet. If the authorities were to find that on him he’d be in deep doo doo, to say the least. His most pressing concern at that moment, though, was the silver Mercedes sedan three car lengths behind him. He could’ve sworn he’d spotted that same car when he left Janus Global Enterprises and that must’ve been why instinctively he’d gotten off the 110 and started driving aimlessly through downtown Los Angeles. While he didn’t think it likely that Auric Gold would double-cross him, the guy was a reputed mobster suspected of running half a dozen criminal enterprises, including laundering money for the Russian mob, and since ten million dollars was at stake, the thought had crossed his mind that the Mercedes’s presence was anything but innocent. He knew that Gold wanted the flash drive. Forget that, Gold needed the documents stored on the drive, and while he would pay the agreed upon ten-million-dollar price for it, if the mobster could get it for nothing by having a couple of his hired thugs nabbing him after he left work, why wouldn’t Gold try that? The guy was a killer, after all!

Victor used his rearview mirror to catch another peek of the Mercedes and realized for the first time that while the driver was a man, his passenger was a woman. So Gold must have women muscle on his payroll. Why not? The light ahead had turned yellow. Victor gritted his teeth and without signaling or even glancing over, swung his car hard into the left lane. The car he had cut off blasted its horn, but there was no sound of crunching metal. Luckily, he had avoided an accident. The light turned red and he came to a stop. Once again, he glanced in the rearview mirror. The driver behind him was nearly frothing at the mouth as he energetically gave him the finger. Fine. Victor didn’t care about that. What he cared about was that the Mercedes had also moved into the left lane.

As Victor waited for the light to turn green, he gripped the steering wheel hard enough that his hands began to ache. He no longer had any doubt that Gold had sent those two to rip him off. When the light changed, instead of turning left Victor pushed hard on the gas and shot forward, driving straight on 2nd Street. He risked another look in the rearview mirror and watched as the Mercedes had no choice but to take the left turn. Later, Gold’s muscle would circle back and try to pick him up, but they weren’t going to have any luck with that. Victor would meet up with Gold later that evening, but it would be on his terms. He turned right on South Grand Avenue and then another right. He would find a place to camp out and give the Mercedes time to get hopelessly lost trying to find him. Besides, after releasing the steering wheel and feeling his hand shake, he realized that he badly needed a drink.

Eight minutes later Victor parked half a block away from the Royale Bar. Another nine minutes and he was sitting at the bar and had drunk half of a double Scotch. By happenstance, he looked over his left shoulder and caught the eye of a dark brunette sitting three barstools away. Somehow he hadn’t noticed her until then, but she was quite attractive, and he found himself staring at her longer than he should have. Instead of reacting angrily, she flashed him the type of smile that made him feel weak in the knees. He smiled back at her and watched as she got off her barstool and ambled over to him.

“Eva,” she said.

Up close and seeing her standing, she wasn’t just attractive, she was stunningly gorgeous. Like a movie star. He took the hand she offered. It was a slender, delicate hand, and it felt nice in his own.

“Sean,” he lied, which made no sense. Sometime in the next thirty minutes he would be heading to LAX and once he arrived there he’d be calling Auric Gold and arranging to meet him at his gate. It shouldn’t take more than an hour after that for them to conclude their business. Then at roughly five-forty p.m. he’d be boarding a flight to Vietnam. So why lie about his name? He had no good answer for that. But he did know why he wanted her to take the empty barstool next to him. He wasn’t a bad looking guy, and in the past he had attracted his share of attractive and cute women, but never anyone like her. That should change once he had his ten million dollars, but still, this was a first for him. He glanced past her to notice that she had left behind an empty cocktail glass. Since he had nothing to lose, he decided to be bold. “You just want me to buy you a drink,” he said, flashing her a grin.

She laughed at that and lightly touched his arm. “That’s not the only reason.” She gestured at the empty barstool. “Mind if I sit?” she asked.

“By all means.” Victor signaled the bartender to get the woman another drink. The bartender complied, mixing up a gin martini and bringing it over.

“Whether it’s gin or vodka, I prefer my martinis stirred and not shaken,” she said. Her hand was again lightly touching Victor’s arm and he reciprocated by placing his hand on one of her beautifully shaped legs. The fact that she didn’t seem to mind had him recalculating how much time he had before he’d have to leave for the airport.

“I’m not usually here at—” She gave her watch a quick look. “Two-twenty in the afternoon drinking martinis, but it was just one of those days where I needed to get out of the office.” Her smile turned up a notch. “What’s your excuse?”

“I’m not drinking martinis.”

She laughed at that. An easy, soft laugh, and Victor found himself mesmerized by it. He also tried again to reschedule in his mind his next three hours so he could both deliver the flash drive to Gold and also spend an hour alone with Eva.

“You know what I mean, smart guy,” she said with a wicked smile. She reached for her martini and knocked the glass over, the gin and vermouth that had been stirred together soaking Victor’s pants. He quickly got to his feet so he could inspect the damage.

She burst out laughing, but brought her palm to her mouth to cut it off. “I can’t believe I did that,” she exclaimed, sounding appropriately contrite. She was quickly off her own barstool and crouching in front of him as she futilely attempted to scrub at his wet pant.

There wasn’t much point in what she was doing. He would have to buy a pair of boxer shorts and pants unless he wanted to spend nineteen hours on a plane in wet clothes, which meant he wouldn’t be able to juggle his schedule enough to spend any time alone with her.

“Eva, what are you doing with him!”

 The man who had yelled this had just entered the Royale. He was about Victor’s height, but far more muscular, and he also looked borderline homicidal with thick veins streaking his neck. He was also running straight at them, his hands balled into fists.

Eva turned away from Victor to confront this man. “Craig, we had broken up!”

Victor sized up the situation quickly. Craig was intent on doing serious damage to him and Eva weighing all of 115 pounds would be little more than a speed bump in slowing the guy down. Victor had to get out of there fast, and since Craig was between him and the front door, he took off running toward the back entrance. The adrenaline pumping through him left him nearly breathless as he pushed his way through the door and stepped out into the alley behind the Royale. An arm wrapped around him from behind and he was jabbed in the neck with a needle. He tried yelling for help, but a thick piece of cloth was pushed into his mouth, gagging him. The arms that held him were like steel bands and every second he felt weaker. A minute later he was fully conscious but his body sagged as if he had no control over it.