American
readers like an upbeat story with a happy ending. Probably the reason
why, back in the 1950s, David Goodis found a more receptive audience for
his novels in France than on his home turf.
Recall French New Wave director François Truffaut's film based on Goodis' Shoot the Piano Player,
a story where a world-class classical pianist hits bottom following his
wife's suicide and is reduced to eking out a living by tinkling the
eighty-eight at a Philadelphia dive bar.
Recall the French
existentialism of Jean-Paul Sartre and Albert Camus with their themes of
alienation in a meaninglessness universe. Recall the romans durs (hard
psychological novels) of Georges Simenon and more contemporary French
author Pascal Garnier's tales of inner anguish and wrenching despair.
When
it comes to a life of agony and woe, none of these French authors can
one up the boy from Philly; indeed, pick up any novel by David Goodis
and you'll read about men and women tormented by layer after layer of
unimaginable trauma and psychic pain. In this way, David Goodis has
strong affinities with the king of American nihilist fiction: Jim
Thompson.
Usually Goodis' characters develop a thick skin, a
hard shell in an attempt to deal with all they're forced to deal with.
It ain't easy.
Psychological torment helps fuel action,
contributing to a story made all the more compelling by Goodis' agile,
skillfully constructed twists, turns and plot thickeners. Just when you
figure things are headed one way - surprise!
Back when David G
was in his twenties, he churned out pulp novels by the dozens, sometimes
a book a week, an experience that paid off in his later years. His Vintage/Black Lizard
novels pack punch and drive, almost daring a reader to put the book
down. These Goodis yarns also have depth, thus there's good reason a
volume within the Library of America collects five David Goodis novels (Dark Passage, Nightfall, The Burglar, The Moon in the Gutter, Street of No Return). In the upcoming weeks, I plan to read and review each of these.
A Goodis
quality I especially enjoy: the author's lean, tough vocabulary. And
his sentences pop, not a word is wasted. Reading a Goodis novel is one
notch away from reading one of those down to the bone, spare and sparse
Parker novels by Donald E. Westlake writing as Richard Stark.
The Burglar
is a 150-pager (the author's usual short length) that opens with main
character Nat Harbin, seasoned burglar, age thirty-four, waiting in the
car at three in the morning with his fellow robbers: cantankerous
oldster Baylock, thuggish brute Dohmer and a skinny, blonde gal in her
early twenties by the name Gladden. The burglars are getting ready to
rob $100,000 worth of emeralds kept in a safe in a Philadelphia Main
Line mansion.
Too many shockers and swivels for me to divulge
anything further about plot. In the spirit of movie trailer, here are
clips from what could be the novel's trailer:
EXPLODING RAGE
Following
the heist, the four burglars hold up in their dingy hideaway house in
one of the shabbier sections of Philadelphia. Baylock gets on Harbin's
back about having Gladden (a damn woman) as part of their operation.
Gladden shoots back. Tension grows, tempers fire up and we read -
"Harbin
felt something twisting around in his insides, something getting
started in there. He knew what it was. It had happened before. He didn't
want it to happen again. He tried to work it down and stifle it, but it
kept moving around in there and now it began to climb."
Moments
later Harbin can see Dohmer cupping his enormous hands over his head,
moaning and sobbing in remorse, having socked Baycock in the eye with
his huge fist. Why the violence? Harbin says it's nerves but we're given
the brutal backstory of each crook, knowing the past never dies; it
remains coiled up like a poisonous snake forever ready to strike.
DREAMY LAND OF BEAUTY
Later
that evening, Harbin takes Gladden out to a club. Harbin is curious; he
confronts Gladden about what she values most, knowing the heist, the
money, isn't the most important thing in her life. Gladden slumps
languidly and tells him, "The dreamy feeling. Like going back. Like
resting back on a soft pillow that you can't see. Way back there."
This
is vintage David Goodis - his characters might be dragged down and
degraded by reams of filth, both their own psychic filth and the grime
of society, but they still have the capacity to dream.
FEMME FATALE
Harbin
sends Gladden off to rest and tan under the sun in Atlantic City. That
evening, eating dinner at a small restaurant, he catches a glimpse of a
beauty with that special something -
"He couldn't be sure
whether she was smiling. Her lips were relaxed and so were her eyes. He
sensed there was something international in the way she sat there,
looking at him...he turned his head away, tried that for a few seconds,
then brought his eyes back to hers. She was still looking at him. He
noticed now she was something out of the ordinary."
Here name is
Della and you bet she's something out of the ordinary. For David Goodis
to tell how Della fits into Nat Harbin's future.
GUIDING LIGHT
Back
in his younger days, Harbin received advice from a man named Gerald.
"But the big thing to remember, Gerald would say, was the necessity of
being a fine burglar, a clean and accurate operator, and honorable
inside, damn it, an honorable burglar."
Nat Harbin has cause to
reflect on these words, particularly in light of what Della says, "I
did a lot of thinking about it, knowing definitely that life is
worthwhile only when you have a chance of getting what you want."
How will it all play out for Harbin and the others? Grab a copy of The Burglar and find out. 
American novelist David Goodis, 1917-1967
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