Those who have watched and appreciated the cult film of 1987, Alan Parker's "Angel Heart/Little Devil" (with an unspoiled Mickey Rourke and a demonic Robert De Niro) - don't pass by. I myself have seen it about three times, and for me it was probably decisive. Unfortunately, I had to read it in Russian (Isaeva's translation is the best), since it has not yet been translated into Ukrainian. The book is definitely not worse, although many people like the film more. If in the movie there is the atmosphere of the black blues of the Mississippi Delta (here there is still a reference to Robert Johnson, the founder of the 27 Club, who allegedly sold his soul to the devil), then in the book everything is limited to 1950s New York with jazz musicians (when jazz/swing was pop music). Everything else, voodoo, occultism, the atmosphere is present, and somewhere even more colorful. Noir, coolness, Americanness... everything is in place. I recommend it!
Five stars for the remarkable characters and vivid descriptions of New York in 1959. Harry Angel, a private detective residing in the Chelsea Hotel, goes about his job in the city. He drives and takes the subway, with soup stains on his tie. Harlem, Times Square, Coney Island, the subway, the apartment buildings, the restaurants, and the old theatres all come alive during Angel's travels. I had grown tired of books and movies about New York, but Hjortsberg has rekindled my interest in that city.
The Jazz player Toots from New Orleans, who is involved in voodoo, the freak show fat woman on Coney Island, and the patrician devil-trickster Louis Cyphre are all outstanding characters. The novel is rather risqué, as the seventeen-year-old voodoo priestess Epiphany Proudfoot has an affair with Angel, who is nearly forty. Additionally, the black mass in an abandoned subway station is shockingly bloody and sexual.
The plot revolves around Cyphre hiring Angel to locate the long-lost crooner Jonny Favorite, which sets off the typical private eye adventures. However, this is a horror story and not just another hard-boiled detective thriller. The plot becomes overly complicated. I attempted but failed to understand the sequence of events after Angel met Favorite in Times Square in 1943. Like many others, I came to the book after watching the Alan Parker directed movie "Angel Heart" starring Micky Rourke and Robert Dinero. I believe it's Rourke's best movie.
The best cross of noir and horror ever. It is truly a remarkable combination that still packs a powerful punch. The dark and gritty atmosphere of noir blends seamlessly with the spine-chilling elements of horror, creating a unique and unforgettable experience. The storylines are often filled with mystery, suspense, and a sense of foreboding, keeping the audience on the edge of their seats. The characters are complex and flawed, adding to the overall sense of realism. Whether it's the shadowy streets of a big city or the haunted corridors of an old mansion, the settings are vividly描绘, drawing the viewer into a world of darkness and danger. This cross-genre masterpiece continues to captivate audiences and stands as a testament to the power of combining two different genres to create something truly special.
Falling Angel is a captivating tale set in the 1950s Big Apple. Harry Angel, a quintessential private eye, is hired by Louis Cypher to find Johnny Favorite. Harry, who fought in WWII in North Africa and has the scars to prove it, embarks on this mysterious case. When he reaches the mental hospital where Johnny was supposed to be, he discovers that the man has vanished. After some intense questioning, he learns that Johnny had recovered but with near total amnesia, and his friends had paid the doctor to keep quiet. However, hours after getting the answers, the doctor is found dead, and Harry heads back to NYC.
Harry then delves into Johnny's music associates, seeking the elusive friends who took him from the hospital. In the process, he uncovers Johnny's dark secrets. He wasn't the wholesome boy as believed. An orphan from humble beginnings, he rose to fame through mysterious means. He was interested in the black arts, dabbled in voodoo, and even carried a human skull. As Harry's investigation progresses, the body count rises. One of Johnny's old band mates is murdered in a staged voodoo ceremony, and his ex-fiance has her heart torn out. It becomes clear that Cypher is not what he seems, and the horror drives Johnny's estranged daughter into Harry's arms.
Falling Angel masterfully combines the genres of hardboiled mysteries and horror fiction. Hjortsberg's use of tropes from both genres creates a unique and original mashup. The transition from a typical P.I. mystery to gut-wrenching horror is seamless, and the mounting dread is palpable. The twist at the end is shocking, even for those who may have predicted it. However, the novel does have a few drawbacks. The ending is somewhat telegraphed, and the metaphors are almost exclusively similes, which can become tiresome after a while. Overall, though, Falling Angel is a great read for fans of either genre. I give it four stars.
5th time through. Fifth time reading this 1st hardback edition.
The book, a precious gift from my mother when I was in my twenties, is now falling apart, just like the pages of an ancient manuscript. Page 34 fell out while I was reading, and then page 98. Later, a few pages towards the last 20 pages also came loose.
This book is extremely sentimental to me as my mom passed away back in 2001. However, 1st edition copies can fetch up to $50 - $150 or more. I truly believe this is the edition I'll always treasure the most.
I also own a mint 1st edition paperback edition, but it doesn't hold the same significance for me.
My review will follow. There isn't much to say, really. Outside of Ross Macdonald, Willeford, and James Crumley, this is hands down the very best post World War II private eye novel ever written.
I'll attempt to write a dry-eyed review later tonight.
This is an absolutely brilliant novel, regardless of the genre.
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Full of pseudo tough guy back and forth, Private Eye (sorry, Private Investigator) Harry Angel circa 1959 is engaged by a certain Louis Cypher to locate the whereabouts of a one-time big time Big Band singer, Johnny Favorite. Favorite was once a rival to the then up and coming Frank Sinatra. The only problem is that Favorite was drafted. During a USO tour, he and his band were strafed by a Luftwaffe squadron. Favorite was left severely injured. Shipped back to the states, he spent 15 years inside a private mental ward after being sprung by persons unknown from a lousy V.A. hospital.
Our narrator, Angel, himself a war veteran who was injured during the war in Oran, accidentally shot by the French allies in a scuffle with the Nazis, winds up in New York City circa 1959 working as a P.I. He comes complete with the clipped wise cracks, a hatred for authority in general and cops in particular.
The author, the late William Hjorstberg, is gifted with an acute knowledge of pre-WWII wise-guy dialogue. Angel narrates the novel in a clipped know-it-all dragged down kiss-my-ass Jack Webb dry delivery.
There's no thug with a gun he can't outwit and gain knowledge from. There's no dame who's not willing to dance the rhumba with Harry Angel. After all, he's after Johnny Favorite, and what pre-World War II bopper wasn't nursing a crush on Johnny Favorite?
There are loads of dialogue I could quote, but why waste my time? You'll either read this novel or you won't.
I'm saying that Hjorstberg was one of the most gifted authors capable of emulating the greatest authors of the pre-WWII pulp fiction of Black Mask or Dime Detective. If that's not your cup of tea, then why waste your time?
The ending is a real killer.
As I said above, I've read this at least five times. Why am I drawn back into it? There's a newly discovered sequel from the estate of the late William Hjortsberg recently published. It's my next read. I had to re-read this first, and I'm glad I did.
I'd forgotten how brilliant a writer Hjortsberg was. This novel still has a powerful impact on the hardboiled-dick enthusiast.
Check it out for yourself.