Reading The Cold Six Thousand is a harrowing, sometimes traumatizing experience. In a July 2006 essay, James Ellroy wrote about how, while he finished writing the book, his life started to unravel: his marriage dissolved, anxiety consumed him and he fell back into addiction. The book feels like something that was written just ahead of a complete emotional breakdown. It's all conspiracies and double-crosses, the violence is frequent and horrifying, and the characters so paranoid that they’re mentally and physically exhausted by the end.

It’s a hard book to read, too, being familiar with the rest of Ellroy’s biography. His murdered mother, her never-identified assailant, and his misogynist father all have corollaries in the text. It’s hard to not read wish-fulfillment into a character who’s reunited with his long-lost mother, or the one who spends years searching for a serial killer of women and eventually torturing the guy to death, or the character who plots the murder of his toxic, hateful father.

This one gets the full-on review because I wrote one up a few years back in an attempt to understand whether I liked the book. I'm a big Ellroy fan, but the moral stance he takes in this novel is complex, and I had to think it through. I end up siding with him, if you don't want the whole thing. Or, if you have a few minutes:

James Ellroy’s novel The Cold Six Thousand, is an addictively compelling story driven almost exclusively by morally repugnant characters. The characters in Ellroy’s police novels, particularly his Los Angeles quartet, often commit seemingly irredeemable deeds yet by book’s end somehow find redemption. In his more recent works Ellroy’s writing enters the world of big-time politics and redemption is no longer offered as a possibility. Ellroy once wrote about serial sex murderers and the obsessive cops who chased them, propelled by despair tinged with the tiniest drop of optimism; it is only now, writing of deeds sanctioned by the United States government, that Ellroy has written a tragedy of worldly proportions.

The Cold Six Thousand is Ellroy’s take on the assassinations of John Kennedy, Martin Luther King, and Robert Kennedy. The book’s primary characters are mercenaries motivated more by the action than by the money, men whose complexities are revealed in three and four word sentences, a spare style that delivers its brutal story sans adjective overkill.

Although it is a common theme in tragedy for the main character to be either an exemplification of evil or battling with that exemplification, Ellroy here stakes out ground in which the evil is all relative; none of his characters are “good,” and although some are better than others, the Nietzschean question is whether good is to be measured by power or by a morality less tangible.

The answer to this question is left to the reader. For the immorality—the danger—is not in Ellroy’s writing, which portrays brute, underground aspects of modern America. The danger is that his audience may be so numbed, so inured to cruelty and violence, that we fail to judge these characters. But people who live as though they are beyond morality are not simply amoral. They are immoral, misguided savages living by their own set of savage rules. Torture, after all, originated with ‘civilized’ man.

Ellroy’s is a fictionalized history, but it is a plausible fiction. His main characters are employed by the Mafia, the government, or both: agencies policed only by themselves and each other. Ellroy does not distinguish organized crime from the CIA and FBI; he puts them all out there, weaves them together, and dares us to disbelieve him. And because what the public knows of these organizations is shrouded in secrecy, knowledge often becoming public only when a cover-up fails, it is easy to accept Ellroy’s fictions as truths. We know that however horrible the assassinations of Martin Luther King and the Kennedys, the world contains people who hated those men, and some of those who hated may well have not only ordered but enjoyed and celebrated their murders.

Ellroy does not judge. He mires the reader in page after page of blood and torture and souls willingly lost, men who will give up whatever goodness they may have once possessed in order to do battle with their demons. Ellroy’s characters do not make conscious decisions, except regarding the achievement of their own desires. They are animals, oblivious to their capabilities for rational decisions. They live in fear, and the little humanity that remains for them is in the hate they use to defeat that fear. And in that they cannot succeed, for the means becomes the end, and it is here that indeed Ellroy appears finally to pass judgment. For his troubled characters cannot find peace, instead settling for revenge or their own violent ends. And if there are exceptions, and someone survives at the cost of his soul, it is probably due to nothing more than a profound belief that the world is an evil place. It is a world portrayed brilliantly in The Cold Six Thousand. It is a world that must be fought, but in Ellroy’s horrifying vision there is little hope of victory.

Unglaubliche Geschichten von bösen Männern

Im ersten Teil seiner Underworld Trilogie hatte James Ellroy schon das Konzept des historischen Romans bis an die Grenzen der Glaubwürdigkeit strapaziert, indem er seine drei bösen Männer ihre Finger in sämtliche Schlechtigkeiten der späten Fünfziger bis zu Planung und Ausführung des Kennedy-Attentats stecken ließ.
Der Albtraum führt dieses Konzept mit dem Vietnam-Krieg und den Anschlägen auf Martin Luther King und Robert F. Kennedy weiter. Für den am Ende von #1 hingerichteten Möchtegern-JFK-Freund Kemper Boyd rückt Wayne Tedrow nach, ein gewalttätiger Bulle mit Chemie-Diplom und einem Ödipus-Komplex, den er im letzten Drittel voll ausleben darf, auch wenn er den Vatermord an Stiefmutti überträgt. Im Verlauf des Romans ist WT erst Polizist, dann Rausschmeißer, dann Heroinkocher in Vietnam und Teil des Attentats auf MLK. Zuletzt beerbt er als neuer Anwalt von Howard Hughes und der Mafia auch noch Ward Littell, den gefallenen Engel des ersten Teils, der sein Gewissen durch großzügige Spenden an die Bürgerrechtsbewegung und die Sabotage von allerlei FBI-Aktionen gegen MLK und Co erleichtert. Beim Versuch das RFK-Attentat zu verhindern ereilt den X-Fach-Agenten aber dasselbe Schicksal wie seinen früheren Mentor Kemper Boyd beim Attentat auf den Präsidenten, niemand will die zwielichtige Größe noch anhören. Im Gegensatz zu Boyd kann Littell sein verpfuschtes Leben selbst beenden. Nun gut, Tedrow muss gegenüber Littel und Bondurant, die ein oder zwei Romane mehr Entwicklungszeit gehabt haben, eine ziemliche Strecke aufholen, aber mit einer ausgeweideten Ehefrau als Dreingabe ist sein Glaubwürdigkeitskonto schon ziemlich stark überzogen, ehe er sich der MLK-Mordbrigade anschließen muss, weil man ihm den Mörder seiner Frau, den er vorher wegen psychologischer Ladehemmung entkommen ließ quasi auf einem Serviertablett gereicht hat, das nun seine Fingerabdrücke trägt.
Im Vergleich zu den beiden anderen Musketieren des Bösen ist Big Pete Bondurant fast noch eine Art Sympathieträger, auch wenn der JFK-Attentäter in Sachen Mord und Drogengeschäfte die schmutzigsten Finger hat und sich durch Teilnahme am RFK-Anschlag aus der Mafia frei kaufen kann, zwei Herzinfarkte hat der anstrengende Lebensstil dem mörderischen Riesen eingebracht, der während der zweiten Attacke noch vier verräterische Kumpane auf der Yacht erledigt. Den letzten erschlägt er gar mit einem Anker, während sein Körper Amok läuft und bringt das Boot danach sicher von der Küste Kubas in den Hafen von Miami.
Wer's glaubt wird selig, damit bin ich auch bei meinem Hauptproblem. Denn auch dieses mal wird, ohne nachvollziehbare Motivation der Feind zum Freund und umgekehrt, dazu die die kaum vorstellbare Ballung von Verbrechen, in die diese drei bösen Männer verwickelt sind, ausnahmslos vorgetragen im Stakkato von Vier-Wort-Sätzen. Angeblich hat James Ellroy diesen Minimal-Stil während L.A. Confidential aus der Not heraus entwickelt, weil das Finale des Romans 100 Seiten zu lang war. Dieser Albtraum ist länger und durch ständige Strapazierung derselben Stilmittel und Wiederholung von Russisch-Roulette-Verhören absolut eine Zumutung an den Leser, die nichts anderes verdient als einen Stern. Der Lektor, der für die unnötige Verkürzung von L.A.Confidential verantwortlich war, sollte für den Rest seines Lebens dazu gezwungen werden, den amerikanischen Alptraum zu lesen, während der Bewacher an der Trommel seines Revolvers dreht und sich dabei ebenso vor Angst einzuscheißen wie die ganzen Leute, mit denen Littell, Bondurant, Tedrow und Co russisch Roulette spielen.

In Sei pezzi da mille, Ellroy schiaccia il piede sull'acceleratore. Rompe ossa. Spacca culi.
Uomini e donne vivono la Vita. Uomini come Ward Littell, come le Grand Pierre Bondurant, come Wayne Tedrow Jr. Donne come Jane-Arden Smith, Barb Jahelka, Janice Lukens.
Uomini e donne che vivono la Vita davanti ai tuoi occhi, pagina dopo pagina.
Basterebbe solo questo.
E poi c'è lo stile.
Quale scrittore degli ultimi cinquant'anni può vantarsi di aver letteralmente inventato uno stile di scrittura?
Ti frastorna, ti prende a schiaffi, ti ossessiona.
Proprio come il romanzo.

This is the 2nd book in a planned 3 part series that began with American Tabloid. 6K picks up exactly where AT began (late November, 1963 in Dallas).

The only difference between books is that Ellroy seems to have run out of innovative plot and moved to a machine gun form of storytelling. 7 out of 10 sentences are no longer than 3 words a piece. Many are shorter. or Most. Are. Shorter.

The main characters of Ward Littell, Pete B and Wayne Jr. Hoover is back for more as is Hughes, who Ellroy hysterically portrays. MLK and RFK find there way into the novel as well.

I would recommend this book to anyone who liked American Tabloid, but if you don't find yourself enjoying it to the same extent as AT, don't sweat it and put it down.

Distinguishing features of this book are staccato ‘sentences’ and extreme violence. I got truly fed up with the sheer quantity of ‘scoped’, ‘braced’ and ‘clipped’. The staccato thing is an affectation of the author, who can write genuine sentences when he wants to. He usually wants to during exchanges between J Edgar Hoover and others, these having the effect of making J Edgar appear the most articulate individual in the book. I tend to think you can’t be articulate without being intelligent, so I find this unnecessarily complimentary to J Edgar.

The starting point being the assassination of JFK, numerous historical individuals have their names taken in vain. To take one example, Sal Mineo figures quite a lot in an unflattering homosexual way. What truth is there in Ellroy’s depiction of Mineo? I don’t know. But what if it isn’t accurate? Some of the events in which he’s unwillingly involved in the book are clearly fiction. Can anyone have his name taken in vain by an author especially if, like Mineo, he’s safely dead? (Well, unsafely in this case, since he was murdered). In this book we have, among others, Bobby Kennedy, Lyndon Johnson, Martin Luther King, Richard Nixon, J Edgar Hoover, Howard Hughes (Drac) . . .

The level of detail is convincing – weaponry, drugs etc – but the book’s main function is to pass the reader’s time. I don’t feel I was any better for reading it, for example, any better informed.

One thing he does well, though, is convey the nature of a relationship in very few words. An example of this would be Pete Bondurant’s relationship with Barbara, who becomes increasingly unhappy with his drug running, Cuba fixation, and involvement in Vietnam.
Wayne Junior’s problems with women after the murder of his wife are very well done too.

"They sent him to Dallas to kill a ***** pimp named Wendell Durfee. He wasn't sure he could do it"

So stars The Cold Six Thousand. Pick up where American Tabloid finished. Tough compelling and brutal. The problem this book has is that everyone who reads and leaves a review of this book has already read American Tabloid. Which is terrific and is about one of the most extraordinary events of the 20th century. This is still a great book. Just as good. Its about the aftermath and cant possibly have the same impact. I think people at taking a star of because the period covered isn't quite as intriging . Take a star off history, not this book.
Every one comments on the writing style. The short staccato sentences. You get used to it. You get hooked on it. Its an extraordinary achievement. A novel without adjectives. Its a novel in bullet points. Its brutal. Straight to the point. Serves a purpose. Gives it a detached documentary feel. This is superlative stuff.

I regret to say, this was the first time JE left me somehow disappointed. Slow and hard to follow. Still, with flashes of his undisputed talent, as eg the end

This trilogy presents something like a postmodern (L.-F.) Céline. If L.-F. came back to life in contemporary America, this is the sort of thing he might have written (I am talking, of course, about 'late' Céline -- Castle to Castle, etc.). It is very intense. Perhaps one has to be obsessed with the period/events to 'dig it' -- as I am.

Céline, of course, is more authentic -- Ellroy is fictionalizing far more. I'm sure Fred Otash (whom I now realize I sorta crossed paths with as a teenager -- so much for SIX degrees of separation...) surely didn't 'run' Sirhan or Jimmy Ray...

Nonetheless... this IS a postmodern epoch, and everything IS slightly inauthentic -- even... or *especially* what is billed as hyper-authentic.

Still -- a good (if not great -- it IS too long...) follow-up to American tabloid.

(Now on to 'Rover'....)

The initial installment in this series, "American Tabloid" was a heady mix of speculative history, celebrity and conspiracy theories. It was not really like anything that I had ever read before, and I found it very enjoyable. There was a healthy does of violence along with all of the glitter, but that made the novel more interesting for me.

"The Cold Six Thousand" has many of the same characters and continues the themes of celebrity and alternative history. However, the violence is greatly increased to the point where it seems gratuitous and overtakes any interest that I had in the plot. Some of the plot elements are interesting and entertaining, but eventually I found myself dreading the next explosion of sadism and violence. I'm going to take a crack at "Blood is a Rover", but may abandon it if it turns out to be one beating and killing after another.

‘The Cold Six Thousand’ is a dark, cynical, angry, violent book, full of terrible people doing terrible things.

It picks up precisely where ‘American Tabloid’ left off, and drags the characters from that novel, plus some new faces, through the post-JFK mid to late-60s: Vietnam, drugs, organised crime, civil rights, and the Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy assassinations.

The language is incredibly violent: violently racist, violently misogynistic, violently violent. It’s got a very unusual, staccato style; Ellroy’s sentences bark at you. The average sentence length is about four or five words, subject verb object, and descriptive language is kept to a bare minimum, often just a few words interspersed with forward slashes. It takes some getting used to, but it does match the tone of the novel. It’s thick with slang, the most offensive words and imagery imaginable, and a huge cast of characters.

It’s occasionally difficult to keep track of who’s doing what and why, and especially what people’s motivations are (since so many of the characters are lying to each other and conspiring against each other anyway), so the authorial device Ellroy sometimes employs of interspersing the main first-person chapters with verbatim phone conversations and letters (most of which involve the loathsome J Edgar Hoover) are very helpful. The main chapters sequentially take the viewpoint of each of the three main characters, rotating between them – but tend to be more about what they’re doing than what they’re thinking and feeling. When we do find what they’re thinking and feeling, we usually wish we didn’t.

In ‘American Tabloid’ you got the sense of these dark, criminal, shady characters actively shaping history - here, they seem much more in the grasp of forces they can’t control. Whenever anyone briefly tries to do the right thing, they’re brutally punished for it. If the real 60s were anything like this world portrayed by Ellroy, it’s a wonder anyone survived it or ever had any hope at all.

Review to follow shortly.