La Ferocia - Nicola Lagioia

  

Well, let's be honest: I was bound to hate this book and to find reasons to hate it from the start, as I first heard it mentioned on the pointlessly pretentious podcast of a kid from my hometown, who was salivating at the thought of Lagioia's talent with words. 

Yes, Lagioia writes well. Yes, Lagioia knows it. But does he need to remind the reader about it with countless pages of heavy-handed metaphors? 

This book left me with nothing. I would have probably liked the story had it been written by someone not so completely in love with himself. Instead, I only have very vague recollections of the plot. 

Yet, I'm sure there'll be plenty of people who'll praise this novel because they feel like they have to. And the wonderful local podcaster is probably one of those. Here's to you "Radical Nik", may the world of vanity publishing allow you to establish yourself as the great author you are (but possibly next time you compare yourself to Don DeLillo, do it with a bit of irony...)!

L.A. Confidential – James Ellroy

OK. Let’s get back to work (well, odd turn of phrase considering that I have been neglecting the blog for the last month and a half because of, well, work…)

L.A. Confidential has been sitting on my bookshelf (probably the last of my books from Books for Free in Stratford) for ages. Thing is, having watched the movie I felt like there was no need to rush to read the book. But, as often happens, I was wrong – the two are wildly different, something that is quite evident as soon as one starts to realize how intricate the novel’s plot actually is (and even then, it keeps on getting more and more intricate as the book progresses).

Ellroy is as self-assured as writers can get (reading his interviews at times I have the feeling that his ego might have trumped even Gore Vidal’s) but he might have a point, as I think he’s a better crime writer than Chandler, Hammett, or pretty much anyone else in the 20^th and 21^st centuries. His characters are cocky, witty, degenerate, ruthless, and yet not implausible. On top of that, real-life characters add a decadently classy touch to this Ellroy book (or any other work of his, really). And in the novel, Jack Vicennes comes into his own so much more than in the movie.

I loved the movie, but the book was of an even higher calibre – surely one of the best I’ve read so far in 2017 (one day I should do a yearly top-10…). Because of this I am now reading Perfidia, which might have been a bad decision, but more on that later…