Customer Reviews

Fast One

5 star:		(4)
4 star:		(1)
3 star:		(2)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

It's a crime that this book is currently out of print. If Paul Cain had published more novels (this was his only one, though he wrote many fine short stories), he might well be as famous as Hammett and Chandler. One reviewer, years ago, wrote that reading Fast One was like traveling to Antarctica -- once you arrived, there was no where else to go. In other words, this novel is truly the hardest, toughest, bleakest and bloodiest of the hard-boiled genre. It defines the outer edges of tough-guy fiction. Spare, terse and without redeeming social value, it is a remarkable work. I highly recommend it. Do whatever you can to find a copy, but you can't have mine

Every fan of Chandler and Hammet owes it to themselves to DEMAND that their local mystery store carry this book. From the tough as nails dialog to the bleak ending, bitter as a bucket of limes, this is the penultimate hardboiled novel. Fast One makes Grafton, Cornwall, et al look like lukewarm consommé at a spinsterish tearoom. The literary equivalent to a baseball bat baptism

A keen dive into L.A. noir, before anyone else, and a likely influence to Hammett's Red Harvest and its subsequent manifestations, from Yojimbo to A Few Dollars More to film Last Man Standing. Not the same story, however. Great voice- hear the word "homeboy" used correctly in context from nearly seventy years ago. Ellroy's White Jazz is possibly the only evolutionary offspring.

After reading "Seven Slayers" (the collection of seven of Paul Cain's short stories) I had to read Cain's one and only novel, "Fast One." The only problem was that it was hard to find at a reasonable price. I was glad to see it back in print and available at Amazon.com; however, I was highly disappointed in the Blackmask.com edition (the one star is solely for this specific copy, not the book itself).

I admire what Blakmask Online is doing, but they need to take more care in their editing of classic works. The erratic use of punctuation and frequent misspellings make it almost unbearable to read. I feel like I need another edition just to see if what I am reading was actually written by Paul Cain.

Ultimately, if you want to enjoy this novel I would suggest picking up a used copy from another publisher. Paul Cain's work deserves much better treatment.

This extremely fast paced story traces the activity of Gerry Kells, gentleman gangster, as he plies his trade in and around Los Angeles. There are no heroes in this novel. Only thieves, gamblers, gunmen, blackmailers and corrupt political bosses.

Kells is present in every scene. If he's not being beaten up, he's doing the beating. If he's not being framed for a crime, he's doing the framing. Fast One is pulp fiction in its toughest, most socially irredeemable form. An action packed, fun read. But one that doesn't quite live up to the hype. Unfortunately, the new Blackmask Online edition has an inordinate number of typographical errors that are irritatingly distracting.

Fast One is ranked as a noir classic. But why, and who would enjoy reading it?

Paul Cain's only novel features simple, declarative sentences. Cain's direct prose effectively communicates the slam-bam violence that drives the story. Fast One is rough, action-packed, terse, staccato.

Author Cain (1902-1966) published no stories after 1936, but continued his career as a B-film screenwriter into the late 1940's under the name "Peter Ruric." FYI: Another Black Mask writer, Carroll John Daly, wrote the first hard-boiled detective novel, The Snarl Of The Beast, in 1927.

Blunt, quick, lean. Cain uses fewer conjunctions than any author I have read. This passage illustrates the point:
'The house-phone rang; Borg answered it, said, "Send him up," hung up. He said, "Faber," over his shoulder, went to the door.'

Cain generally uses the colon to introduce quotations. This convention, used by several pulp writers of the time, gives a more precise break, reinforcing the staccato rhythm of Cain's prose.

Cain knows Hollywood and Los Angeles. This is a prohibition-era account of corrupt L.A. politicians, cops on the take, warring underworld figures, and amoral lovers desperately trying to move ahead. This is a uniquely American tale, and could only have been written during the depths of the Depression. The prose doesn't flow like Hammett's, but Cain's terse dialog still sounds pretty good. Cain uses no hyperbole, and this leanness holds up well.

Gambler and gunman Kells leads a desperate race against fate. He refuses to be messed with by anyone. Every chapter has double-crosses, car chases, black-mailings, two-fisted action, bombings, stabbings, or shootings. The violent pace is unrelenting. After 200 pages of turmoil and continued introduction of more characters whose primary function is to die, I was ready for something else. The furious pace was numbing.

The last chapters primarily concern Fells and his lover Granquist. Greater narrative power is achieved by focusing on the main characters and their fate. If there is any moral element in this tale of corruption and double-crossing, it is that Fells falls only when making a grab for the big score rather than purely seeking revenge against those who have wronged him.

Cain's terse style and manic pacing have perhaps never been topped. However, the introduction of too many stock characters and too many sub-plots weakens the appeal. Fast One is fun reading for those wanting to investigate the only published novel from an influential Black Mask writer. However, readers wanting insights into the motivation of the main characters will not be drawn into the story. Four stars based on the strengths of Cain's blunt style and the stunning noir conclusion.

This book is truly a hidden treasure and has never gotten the recognition
that it deserves.

After devouring the work of Chester Himes, Charles Willeford, James Ross and other unjustly forgotten hard-boiled greats, it seemed inevitable that I'd read Cain's FAST ONE. I'd heard nothing but praise for it. The fact that it was out of print and expensive even as a Black Lizard paperback reissue upped my expectations even more.
But I became disappointed with it very quickly. The prose is remarkably sharp and truncated, yes, but also lacks almost all descriptive detail and consistently focuses only on dialogue. Often it reads like a screenplay. The pacing of the novel is just plain manic-- in the thirties this must have seemed exciting and original, but now that MTV style jump-cut editing has proliferated and influenced all mediums, sheer speed seems cliche. This novel is "noir" in the traditional sense of the word: gangsters and stupid dames and violence that never seems to hurt the protagonist... ho hum.
There's hardly any social commentary, either. Although this novel does seem to be a sort of Magnetic North for traditional American crime fiction, I have to say I found it difficult to get through and somewhat mediocre.