Most Helpful Customer Reviews
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3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
"Phoenix Noir" is a delicious contradiction in terms, November 2, 2009
Spend a few years in Phoenix and it's easy to think you know her. But the truth is that the real Phoenix is mercurial and constantly changing. There is no denying editor Patrick Millikin's description of the city's unchecked urban sprawl as "metastacizing into the desert" with never ending additions of one more resort or mall or subdivision. Whatever it is at any given moment, however, the shiny, sparkling Valley of the Sun seems an unlikely setting for Noir fiction -- and that's exactly the contradiction that makes Phoenix Noir such a compelling read.
Millikin's selection of stories seems to suggest that Phoenix herself is the ultimate noir metaphor -- the perfect femme fatale -- her sultry, beautiful surface giving way to a back story that is often flawed, complex and dangerous. Running through each of the narratives is the omnipresent notion that in the Valley of the Sun, no one is completely safe and that morality often takes a back seat to more immediate and baser indulgences.
But those who take in the superficial -- palatial estates, five-star resorts, the tanned and perfect East Valley soccer moms -- and write Phoenix off as the dumb blonde of the southwest tend to miss the point. Phoenix Noir digs a little deeper.
Diana Gabeldon's wicked tale of murder, sex and suburban social climbing; Don Winslow's poignant reflection on the city's notorious Van Buren strip; Stella Pope Duarte's lament for the lost and Millikin's gritty sojourn into the early 80's punk scene are just a few of the tales that bear witness to those consumed by the city and her dirty little secrets - secrets Phoenicians prefer not to put in travel brochures.
Readers who are new to the Valley of the Sun will love the depth and diversity of this collection of well crafted stories. And for those of you who have ever driven down the seedy Van Buren Strip, or eaten ribs at Bill Johnson's Big Apple, or gazed at Tovrea Castle sillouetted against sunset on a sultry summer evening, Phoenix Noir and it's brilliant juxtaposition of sunshine and shadow will both delight and haunt you. . . . but then again, that's kind of the point.
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1 of 1 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Beneath the Valley of the Sun, November 2, 2009
As the opening titles fade in Alfred Hitchcock's immortal film "Psycho," the camera begins to pan slowly across the gray urban landscape of Phoenix, Arizona in the late 1950s. Finally the camera selects a building and slowly zooms in through the open window of a seedy hotel room. Janet Leigh lies on the bed, wearing only a white slip and bra, and before her married lover can even deliver the first line of dialogue, you know damn well that nothing good can possibly come of this.
Now, nearly fifty years later, Patrick Millikin's "Phoenix Noir" captures perfectly that same sense of dread, suggesting that something may be terribly wrong at the core of this city. Millikin has recruited an impressive array of crime fiction writers who have contributed stories to this book, including Lee Child, Don Winslow, Jon Talton and James Sallis. The stories are uniformly good and cut a broad swath through the Valley of the Sun, both in time and in space, showing readers a side of Phoenix that the Convention and Visitors Bureau would never dare feature in its glossy brochures. The stories are gritty, sexy and violent, revealing the sordid underbelly of a city much better known these days for its sunshine and superficiality.
Millikin's own story, "Devil Doll," is among the best in the book, and the editor more than holds his own in the company of the better-known writers. Fans of noir fiction anywhere, but especially those who know the Phoenix area, will enjoy this collection immensely.
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1 of 8 people found the following review helpful:
2.0 out of 5 stars
A lite look at a 'dull gray' Phoenix, October 22, 2009
Modern-day Phoenix is still a little town with a great big lack of imagination, little identity and no sense of community; this book portrays the dreary side of life, but ignores the murderous trade in illegal aliens on which the Phoenix economy rests.
'Noir' is a particular style of writing which features an alienated, doomed hero, cynical private detectives, corrupt cops, always a femme fatale and a milieu of bleak corruption and moral breakdown. At it's best, it creates a vivid image of free enterprise risen to its lowest levels.
Really, though, Phoenix cops aren't corrupt, jaded or cynical; they're smug "cash registers" known for the traffic tickets they love to hand out. It typifies the fault in this book; if you can't get the attitudes right, the whole thing falls apart. The problem is illustrated by a local anecdote: Q. "How can you identify a tourist in Scottsdale?"
A. "No breast implants."
It's why Scottsdale is the West's most plastic town. These stories get the words right, but the mood is absent. It's just too sincere in trying to copy the insincerity of Los Angeles. In brief, the adobe is fake but the tinsel and plastic is real. Think of concrete cacti replacing real saguaros. Phoenix is based on the idea that only money has rights; "noir" is based on the idea of marginal losers making one last desperate claim on their personal dignity.
Let's be realistic: Phoenix is one of the 25 most dangerous places in America, according to the annual Morgan Quitno Safest City surveys. For years, Phoenix led the nation in vehicle thefts. Instead of reality, this book reads like a typical promotion from a civic booster who brags that crime only affects Blacks and Hispanics and everyone else is quite safe provided they avoid dangerous people, places, going out after dark, guns, the downtown, uptown, midtown, and . . . well, you get the idea. 'Phoenix Noir' misses this mood.
Real crime? The introduction asserts, "Close proximity to the Mexican border makes the city a natural destination spot for illegal trafficking of all kinds -- narcotics, weapons, humans." If "close proximity to the Mexican border" makes Phoenix dangerous -- then why is El Paso the second safest city in America? To write about a problem, first get to know the problem.
Granted, it's a clever try by some up-and-coming writers, plus at least one very successful author. So all the requisite words are included. But, a good story takes more than words -- it needs imagination. This book reads like the "noir" of any little town. There's some "noir" feel but little sense of "desert" Phoenix. It could be Phoenix, Oregon, or Phoenixville, Pa., just as easily. Maybe that's what was meant.
In brief, nice try. But this Phoenix is no noir. Think of 'dull gray Phoenix.' Think 'Phoenix lite.' Think of 'Wannabee Phoenix.'
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