Published in 1940, this one finds Dave Fenner, the extra-hardboiled detective introduced in No
Orchids for Miss Blandish (reviewed HERE), having moved his office from Kansas all the way to New
York City, and taken his office assistant/secretary Paula Dolan with him. His
work on the Blandish case brought him plenty of jack, and his name is known far
and wide, but there still isn’t much business coming through the door.
So Fenner and Paula are pleased to get a visit from a
good-looking dame who gives them $6,000 to save her sister, who is somehow
mixed up with 12 Chinamen. The opening scene is loaded with overtones of the
opening chapter of The Maltese Falcon, making it one of the best in the book.
Then a defunct Chinaman with a slit throat appears in Fenner’s office, and when he goes
looking for his client, he finds only a severed arm and a female torso missing legs
and head. In between there somewhere, a couple of Cubans show up to search his
office, bringing shades of Joel Cairo.
The trail then leads to Key West, taking Fenner away from
Paula, which is too bad, because their interplay is the best thing about this
(and the Blandish) book.
Once in Florida, the story shifts into Red Harvest mode,
with Fenner cozying up to two gang leaders in hopes of starting some fireworks.
There’s plenty of tough talk, face punching, head kicking and other such mayhem,
but almost no humor, as Fenner bulls his way through the Key West underworld.
The title is taken from a line of dialogue, and refers to
the preferred racket of one of the gangsters. He smuggles twelve Chinamen at a
time into the country, charging them around a thousand apiece for the
privilege, then sells them for half that to West Coast employers. On the
run Fenner takes part in, a “special” is included, that being a Chinese woman.
The finish offers a nice twist, and is reasonably
satisfying, but getting there would have been a lot more fun if Chase had been
half the stylist Hammett was, or had half the sense of humor.
6 comments:
Didn't Agatha Christie write a book titled TEN LITTLE CHINAMEN?
I think that was TEN LITTLE NATIVE AMERICANS.
I'm a fan of James Hadley Chase but haven't kept up with him.
Congratulations on your Edgar Award! Well deserved!
It seems strange that interest in James Hadley Chase tends to revolve around his stories about American gangsters set in imaginary American cities. It bothers me no more than pseudo-medievalism in sword and sorcery; I accept that we're in a fantasy land where a page-turning story comes first and foremost. But I do know the British-isms and the plain-wrong slang do bother many US readers. All the more surprising, then, that publishers don't first seek to reprint Chase's crime stories set authentically in post-war Britain. Many of these were first published by Jarrolds (London) in hardcover under the byline Raymond Marshall before finding their way into paperback under the Chase name. I'm currently re-reading Trusted Like the Fox, an excellent piece of noir that contains all of the best elements of classic Gold Medal crime which in internet wanderings I've seen claimed to be the inspiration of much of Chase's later work. But hang on ... TLTF appeared in 1946, long before Fawcett began its Gold Medal line of paperback originals. And the same can be said of other Raymond Marshall titles I would recommend to readers everywhere.
And, of course, "Chinamen" isn't too cool these days. Comparable to "Negro" or "Hebrew" as a noun for a person in both cases.
Post a Comment