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Reverse-Gentrification of the Literary World

Akashic Books

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173 search results found for “brooklyn noir”

“Jump,” by Reed Farrel Coleman

Skeleton umbrella. Coney Island crucifix. Tilyou’s Eiffel Tower. Steeplechase shrine. Icon. Landmark: looming, impotent, mocking, futile, naked, moot, regal, red, and ridiculous. Soaring twenty-six stories above the beach and boardwalk, passersby genuflecting at its feet, the Parachute Jump was all of these and none of these and more. Never less. Never. All you had to do was ask Richie . . .

“The Rikers Island Bar,” by Robert Knightly

I’m driving over the Francis R. Buono Memorial Bridge for the nine hundredth time (figuring once a week, four times a month, times twelve months, times eighteen years). The bridge connects the Queens mainland to Rikers Island, which is floating in the East River and a mere hundred yards off the runways of LaGuardia Airport. Rikers Island is the main New York City jail, housing 12,000 or more inmates at any given time, depending on how tough on crime the NYPD chooses to be. Rikers Island is America’s largest penal colony, a city of rolling razor wire far as the eye can see. I’m en route there because I’m a lawyer assigned by the Criminal Courts to defend a fellow who claims to be “indigent” (no dough to hire a lawyer), so he gets me, whom the inmates call “an 18-B” (short for the section of the County Law), as distinguished from “a real, paid lawyer,” whom they’d hire if they could. I pay no mind; I’ve heard it all before . . .

Dark Days in Port-au-Prince (Part 3, Ibi Aanu Zoboi)

Read part one of DARK DAYS IN PORT-AU-PRINCE, our Haiti-set noir short story that was written by Haiti Noir and Haiti Noir 2: The Classics contributors in the style of an exquisite corpse, a collaborative writing process in which each author builds a story based upon what his or her predecessors have provided. Haiti Noir contributor Ibi Aanu Zoboi continues this haunting short story.

“The Hostage” by Timothy Ready

Matty saw the asshole as soon as he climbed over the fence from Volunteer Park into Lakeview Cemetery. Butchie was waving, like an idiot, right where he had told Matty to meet him: Bruce Lee’s grave at two a.m. Like he had to wave, like there’d be anybody else but Butchie the Rat by Bruce Lee’s grave at two a.m.

He walked over to the asshole. “Where’s my cat, Butchie?”

A Crime, a Mystery, and a Happy Ending

Housing Works Bookstore & Café assistant store manager Merril Speck approached our booth at BEA with a refreshing counterpoint to the hours of hyper-commercial meetings, greetings, queries, and conversations for which the trade show is known. His idea for an International Crime Book Group—to help engage the non-profit’s clients while securing contributions from publishers—stood out from the mundane busyness with which we were otherwise engaged. We agreed to contribute (our Venice Noir is on the group’s docket), and, in service to our International Crime Month theme, asked him to tell us more about himself, Housing Works, and the International Crime Book Group. We’re pleased to find his writing style just a little bit noir.